The Ties That Bind
by Little Minamino
Summary: A series of related one-shots that range from Roy finding Ed and Al in Resembool and far, far beyond. Newest Addition: Her Favorite Flower-3 - Havoc brings Olivier her favorite flower, and she immediately cancels their date. Turns out, she's too hungry to wait. Rated for language. EdWin, AlMei, Royai Parental!RoyEdAl Parental!RizaEdAl
1. Checking In - 12 & 10

**The Ties that Bind**

A series of related one-shots that range from Roy finding Ed and Al in Resembool and far, far beyond. Not chronological. EdWin, AlMei, Royai Parental!RoyEdAl Parental!RizaEdAl

* * *

**Checking In**

_Older Brother 12, Younger Brother 10_

Roy liked to check in on the boys at Tucker's place to make sure they weren't making a nuisance of themselves. The first day, he expected them to be hard at work in the library studying everything they could get their hands on in preparation for their written exam in two months. He absolutely did not expect to find Ed face down in the snow beneath an enormous, slobbery dog while Al and Tucker's daughter Nina laughed themselves into hysterics.

"Well then," Roy said from his vantage point at the front gate, "I see you two are studying hard."

Al and Nina stopped laughing immediately, both their heads snapping up to stare at him watching them with his arms and legs crossed, one shoulder propped against the perimeter wall. He smirked at Al, who somehow—Roy would swear—managed to blush despite his body being made of solid steel.

"Oh…um…h-hello Lieutenant Colonel." Al pressed his pointer fingers together sheepishly. "W-what are you doing here?"

"Just checking up on you all." Roy pushed away from the wall with a speculative frown and bladed a hand over his eyes as if to shield them from the blinding sun. "Speaking of…where's your 'big' brother, Alphonse?"

"W-O R U CLLNG SMLL NOUGH TO WLTZ WTH A SNWFLK, U JRK?!"

"What was that, Edward?" Roy cupped a hand to his ear and leaned closer to where Nina's dog Alexander still had the young boy pinned to the snow. "I can't hear you down there. Maybe you could speak up a _little_."

"GAAAAHHHHHHHHH!"

The second time Roy checked in was only a day later. He had to make sure they weren't bothering Tucker, after all, and remind them to study if they weren't. He didn't pay to bring them out to Central just for them to goof around with a little girl and her dog.

They were in the library this time, as they should be, studiously surrounded by stacks and stacks of books. Alphonse and Nina were seated beneath one of the high, paned windows, Nina in Al's lap, while Alphonse read to her from _Fundamentals of Alchemy_. Roy stifled an ironic laugh. That book was designed for teaching children the basics, but even so, Nina was undoubtedly still too young to understand.

Also, considering she was humming brightly as she alternately stamped her bare feet on the carpet and scribbled on the thick pad of art paper in her lap, Roy seriously doubted she was paying attention. It took a minute for him to realize Nina probably just wanted to hear the sound of Al's voice, not caring what he was actually saying, and Al, who wanted to brush up on his alchemic foundation, obliged.

Roy stamped down the fond smile that tried to form, forcing it into an annoyed frown instead. What reason would he have to feel _fond_?

Shaking his head, Roy cast around for Edward before his eyes landed on a familiar red coat stretched across a low pile of books and pinned down on all sides by four enormous tomes. The boy himself was on his stomach beneath the makeshift canopy with a book sprawled open before him. One hand was propped beneath his chin—the automail hand, which couldn't in anyway be comfortable—while his left hand tapped out a slow, steady rhythm against the page of a notebook with the eraser side of his pencil. It was all so…

_Domestic_, Roy told himself firmly. _The word you want is __**domestic**_.

He definitely did not, in any way, consider the picture before him to be adorable. Absolutely _not_.

Deciding the boys were on the right track, Roy slowly withdrew from the library, closing the door soundlessly behind him.

It was a day or two (two and a half, but who's counting?) before Roy was free enough to check in again. He knocked politely as always and smiled kindly at Tucker who opened the front door with an almost subservient hunch about his shoulder.

"Ah, hello again, Lt. Colonel Mustang," Tucker said, almost frowning. "It's been a few days since you last looked in, I almost thought you weren't coming anymore."

"My apologies, Mr. Tucker. Things have been a bit hectic at work lately due to that deranged serial killer running loose. But I wanted to make sure to check-in today since it's the weekend." Reaching into the inner left pocket of his uniform jacket, Roy produced a sealed white envelope with Tucker's alchemic title scrawled across the front in perfectly uniform script. "I brought this coming week's stipend early since I'm not sure when I'll have the chance to check-in again."

"Oh! Well, thank you, Colonel." Tucker offered Roy a tired smile as he accepted the envelope. "I apologize for the necessity. Only a few months ago, I would have been able to support them without a problem, but I'm afraid Brigadier General Grand cut my funding again. He…wasn't pleased with the results of my last update."

"I see…" Roy released the envelope and tucked his hands into his trouser pockets. "Isn't your second-year certification coming up soon?"

"Ah, yes." There was a flash of light across Tucker's glasses as he ducked his head, giving his face an ominous cast. "It should be right after Edward and Alphonse finish their exam."

"I see," Roy said again. "Well, I wish you luck then."

"Oh my." Tucker chuckled self-consciously and rubbed the back of his head with one hand. "That's very gracious of you. To receive luck from an alchemist as accomplished as yourself—Oh! But where are my manners? Please, Colonel, do come in. We were just about to have dinner."

"I wouldn't want to intrude—"

"Nonsense! You're always welcome here. And I'm sure those boys will be happy to see you. They've had quite a few alchemy questions recently, but I'm afraid, with my assessment coming up, I haven't had much time to work with them."

Roy perked up at that, his bow furrowing just a bit. Part of the arrangement he'd made to have the boys staying at Tucker's included alchemic lessons along with room and board. He didn't want to think Tucker was scamming him out of a weekly stipend without fully contributing his half of the bargain, but—

"Oh no!" Tucker said, raising both hand in a placating way. "Please don't misunderstand. I certainly answer whatever questions they have, but some of the theory they discuss…well…" Tucker lowered his hands, embarrassment coloring his face as he looked away. "I'm ashamed to say that at least some of it is…beyond my current abilities."

Oh, well, that was fine then. Roy would never, ever admit it, but just going by the level of skill and intricacy involved in the human transmutation circle the boys had created the previous year, Roy wouldn't be surprised if they surpassed him in at least a few theoretical areas. Nodding, Roy strode into the enormous entryway—why did Tucker need such a large house anyway? It was only him and Nina. Even adding in the need for a lab and a library, that still only accounted for less than half of the current wasted space.

"I'm assuming the boys are in the library?"

"Yes, of course," Tucker said, almost simpering as he came up beside Mustang while wringing his hands. "Well, unless they've decided to take another break. They usually do twice a day just before meals."

That was good, Roy decided. As important as it was for the boys to study and practice their alchemy as much as possible, it wouldn't do anyone any good if they burned themselves out.

"Why can't you just admit you're wrong?!"

Roy almost started at the sudden shout, and Tucker definitely did. That had sounded like Alphonse, but considering how close the boys always acted, each one treating the other like they could disappear at any second (not that Roy could blame them), Roy hadn't ever considered that the boys might do something so mundane or…_childish_ as get into a fight over who was right or wrong.

"Who's wrong?" Edward fired back, his voice pitched higher than usual in his obvious frustration. "Meülneve's theory of abbreviated matrix—!"

"Oh please, brother!" Alphonse may not be able to actually roll his eyes anymore, but that certainly didn't stop the emotions from leaking into his voice for all and sundry to hear. "That study is over fifteen years old! And Asimark's counter from two years ago clearly lays out the flaws in Meülneve's system!"

"Oh yeah? Well Borovich supports Meülneve—"

"And both Gostem and Roisster proved that Borovich's study was faulty due to research bias!"

"It wasn't disproved! They put a caveat on Borovich's work, but they never said it was _wrong_!"

Roy frowned at the library's large double doors, trying to work out what the brothers were fighting over with only a few context clues. He knew that Meülneve was responsible for pioneering a field of study surrounding universal matrixes, specifically alchemic circles that invoked an entire elemental field rather than affecting a specific reaction, such as Armstrong's stone molding technique. If proven correct, Meülneve's work would make alchemy practically a layman's skill as anyone who could draw a basic elemental circle could initiate a reaction.

Unfortunately, all the research currently available on the topic was extremely limited. Unless the person using the circle had an intimate knowledge of the element at hand, the reactions were often to volatile and unpredictable to control. There were a few people within the military that Roy knew had come close to utilizing circles that were almost at their elemental base—that lunatic Kimblee was a prime example, though his alchemy was practically designed to be uncontrollable—but none of them had actually managed the true base-level alchemy Meülneve theorized was possible.

"Oh dear." Tucker wrung his hands more tightly, his jaw tense with nerves and…anger? "This is one of those instances I was telling you about, Colonel. I'm just not as up to date on general alchemic theory as I'd like to be what with my research being more specialized to the bio-alchemic field."

Clearly the boys' fight had an agitating effect on Tucker—the man looked torn between exasperation and outright rage—and that was something Roy couldn't abide. He needed them to stay on Tucker's good side so he wouldn't have to worry about finding them someplace else to board until their exams were complete. He certainly knew other alchemists in the area, but none of them were parents and most, like Roy, lived alone with the demons they had brought back from Ishval. He didn't want to worry about the boys' guardian somehow taking advantage of them on top of his concern that they wouldn't have enough time to advance their studies enough in two months that they could pass a written exam so difficult it took most applicants over five tries just to _finish_ it.

"Well what about Roisster's paper on alchemic fusion, huh?" Ed launched back. "You gonna tell me _that_ was a flawless theory?"

A memory flashed through Roy's mind. Didn't Roisster's theory of alchemic fusion have something to do with using one's soul as a bargaining chip to circumvent equivalent exchange?

His expression darkening, Roy threw open the library doors with a violent crack. "All right, that's _enough_. Or did you two not realize we could hear you arguing all the way down the hall?"

Roy crossed his arms and glared at the two boys who had practically been growling in each other's faces only half a second before. Now they were staring at Roy with a mixture of shock and terror. "Did you think about the inconvenience your arguing would cause Mr. Tucker? Or how scared Nina would be if she heard you going at each other like that?"

Ed's eyes widened and, had his body not been made of iron, Roy was certain Al's would have too.

"Alphonse." Roy cut a glare at the boy who instantly straightened with a stammered 'yes, sir'. "If you had taken the time to look deeper into the application of Meülneve's theory within the military, you would know that not all of his foundational ideas were discredited. In fact, there are several matrixes currently in use that utilize the abbreviation theory."

Edward shot his brother a triumphant grin only to wilt when Roy turned his scowl on the much shorter brother.

"And Edward, how did you learn about Roisster's fusion theory? That research is supposed to be restricted not because it doesn't work, but because it's dangerous and forbidden and _borders on taboo_."

Ed withered a bit beneath Roy's heated glare but somehow managed to remain defiant as he shifted his feet and gripped his too long sleeves with both hands.

"What do you think I was saying to Al, huh? I know it won't work. I was just trying to prove that Roisster's not some great authority on matrix theory—"

Roy scoffed and drew himself up to his full height. He gazed down on the boy with a superior smirk. "Not an authority? Just because he was shut down on soul theory doesn't mean he hasn't made significant contributions to the field at large. In particular, Roisster and Esimov did a joint research project with Lab 2 right here in Central only six months ago that proved amplification was possible. It wasn't a rousing success, but the results were significant enough to earn Roisster an honorary certification despite his age and research-based over practical methods."

Ed's eyes were so wide now, Roy was amazed they didn't fall out of his head. When he spoke again, his voice was a hopeful, raspy whisper. "Amplification?"

Roy's imperious mien melted to something almost fond as he smiled between both boys, his lips twitching with the need to grin. "Yes, Edward, amplification."

The ramifications of what such research might mean for Ed and Al and their current predicament resonated between the trio to create an atmosphere so thick, it was almost miasmic.

Tucker let out a soft, attention grabbing cough that had Roy reaching for an ignition glove before he realized who it was behind him. Heart thudding in his chest, Roy forced his usual nonchalance to settle over his expression before he turned toward the Sewing-Live Alchemist with an eyebrow quirked in question.

"I'm afraid we need to cut this discussion short," Tucker said, his eyes hidden behind the violent gleam of light falling across his glasses. "It's getting rather late and Nina needs her dinner."

"Of course." Roy turned to the boys once again, his eyebrow still quirked. "If you'd like, we can pick this up again tomorrow. I have a meeting right after lunch, but other than that, I'm free for the rest of the afternoon. Come to my office and we'll discuss what theories you boys are having trouble with and see if we can't come to a solution."

Defiance didn't even seem to cross the boys' minds as they stared up at him with awe and, in Ed's case at least, glee. "Yes, sir!"

That Roy spent the rest of the night and all the next morning reading up on every past and current theory of matrix manipulation had absolutely nothing to do with wanting to be sure he could coach the boys properly. He just didn't want to look ignorant in front of a pair of pre-teens; geniuses though they may be.

The rest of the boys' stay at the Tucker Estate was more of the same. Roy would check-in every few days to get a feel of where Ed and Al were at in their studies, then go home to get as caught up as he could manage with all of his other work piling up before calling the boys into his office for a discussion on deep theory. Soon enough, Edward and Alphonse were enough of a regular fixture in Roy's office that Riza actually penciled them into his weekly planner as his standing appointments for Tuesday and Friday afternoons.

His men were shocked, at first, to see their stoic leader spending so much time with a pair of orphaned children, but the brothers, even Ed, were so innately likable that it wasn't long before everyone in Roy's office was happily acquainted with the pair. Roy approved of this only because it would be important for everyone to get along if—_when_—Edward, and maybe Alphonse, passed the exam and became official State Alchemists under Roy's personal command.

Then, at the end of the two-month wait, came the promised day: March 20th. The second quarterly alchemic exam for 1911. Ed had just turned twelve and _damn_ if he didn't look every miniscule minute of his very short life. Sitting in the observation deck, watching Ed and Al scribble answers as frantically as they could, Roy felt a sudden pinch in his gut as he realized for the first time just exactly what he'd done by bringing those boys to Central.

And exactly what it would mean if they passed.

Of course, Roy wasn't an idiot; not by half. He'd known Edward would come to Central to become a State Alchemist, what other options did he have? And Roy also knew that word was already spreading throughout the Eastern region about a brilliant alchemist with unheard of abilities. It's what drew him to Resembool in the first place. That Edward Elric, age 31, was actually Edward Elric, age 10, wouldn't stop any of the higher ups from exploiting him at the first opportunity.

Roy had been annoyed by the false information—who wouldn't be?—but he'd figured it wouldn't hurt to at least meet the kids who were supposed to be little geniuses.

He never expected to find what he did.

And he never thought he'd feel relieved to be the one to find it.

After their performance with Human Transmutation, there was no way Ed and Al wouldn't find themselves pinging off someone's radar. They were already well enough known throughout the East that any number of military recruiting agents would be pounding down their doors in the next few years whether Roy decided to leave them alone or not.

But if Roy got to the boys first…

If he could convince them to enlist later…

If everyone knew that the Elrics were under _his_ recruitment roster…

It would take longer than Roy initially hoped to get that extra star on his shoulder since waiting for Ed and Al to join would hardly have the same effect as them actually _joining_, but Roy was a patient man. And he could always find some other leg-up in the meantime.

So, with that in mind, he'd sown the seeds of hope and watered them with his parting words: "When you're all healed up, come find me in East City."

How was he supposed to know Ed would push himself to the brink so he could show up on Roy's East City doorstep barely a year later? Surgery that extensive done on a body so young? Roy had expected it would take Ed at least three years to fully recover and by that time he would be almost fourteen. With the excuse of two or three months of preparation time, that would still make the boys the youngest successful applicants ever, but it was at least a manageable age.

Roy should have known from their first meeting that Edward wasn't the type to conform to someone else's expectations.

"Sir?" Riza said, leaning over his shoulder as he stared broodily down at the boys still scribbling away at their tests. "General Hakuro is expecting you at Central Headquarters in an hour."

"Of course, Lieutenant." Roy stood and straightened his uniform jacket with a sharp tug. He shot the boys one last look, torn between hoping they would pass and hoping they would fail. At least one of them would, right? They were both brilliant, but they were also young. Alphonse especially. He, at least, wouldn't make it on his first try.

Right?

"If you'd like, sir, I can have their results brought to you during lunch."

"Thank you, Lieutenant," Roy said as he breezed passed her and out of the gallery. "I'll be looking forward to seeing their progress."

Three hours later, Roy had his answers. Staring down at the exam scores sitting proudly atop his desk, Roy scowled. He'd resigned himself to Ed passing, but Alphonse too? The kid was too gentle, too real, too trusting. The military would chew him up and spit him back out as a broken, crumpled mass of iron and soul.

Ed, at least, had the temperament and personality to withstand the pressure that would land squarely on his tiny shoulders. He wasn't the type to back down, whatever the challenge, and if people gave him crap, he'd wad it up and throw it right back in their faces. Roy still didn't like the idea of Edward in the military, not yet anyway, but Alphonse?

No way in all the seven hells was _that_ happening.

Al wasn't happy when Roy told him to drop out—why would he be?—but fortunately, Edward was smart enough to see the reason that Al—and wasn't he supposed to be the more rational and mature one?—couldn't continue on. He convinced Al to step back, that they didn't _both_ have to sign their lives away. Al pushed back at first, but he ultimately capitulated and dropped out of the exam leaving Edward alone to face the interview panel for his transmutation demonstration.

And of course, Ed being Ed, he just had to go and pull a damn _spear_ on the damn _Fuhrer_. Five guns were trained on the kid's head in seconds, and if Fuhrer Bradly hadn't held up a hand to stop them, all five gunmen would have been nothing but piles of ash on the floor.

It hadn't even been a conscious act for Roy to press his fingers together beneath his folded arms as he stood in the gallery, overlooking the exam. He was relieved to see Ed wasn't so stupid as to _actually_ attack the Fuhrer, though scolding the man for his carelessness was almost as bad, but beneath the relief was a bubbling, smoldering sense of terror because Roy had absolutely no doubt he would have snapped his fingers without a second's hesitation. He would have reduced the Fuhrer himself to a charred corpse in an instant.

And he wouldn't have regretted it in the least.

_These kids are __**dangerous**_, Roy realized as he left the galley after Edward was dismissed. He'd only really known them for two months but already he was willing to commit high treason for them?

The memory of terrified red eyes in the soft, round face of a child no older than Ed flashed through Roy's mind. The brown, white, and reds shifted to peach and gold and back again making Roy stumble to a halt in an abandoned hallway. He pressed a hand flat against the wall to steady himself and tried to ease the churning in his gut, slow the pounding in his chest, cool the fire in his blood.

Was he really trying to make up for the sins he committed in Ishval through Ed and Al?

If so, pulling them into the military at barely twelve was a sorry ass way of doing it.

The next day, Ed had his certification and shiny new pocket watch in hand. With nothing left to keep him in Central, Roy prepared to ship back to Eastern Command, where he'd already been absent for too long, and instructed Ed and Al to be ready to leave the following week. He'd be leaving behind an unsolved serial killer case, but that was technically Hughes' case anyway. Roy had only been asked to help out because he had the time on his hands.

And of course, Ed being Ed, just had to go and get himself mixed up with the whole mess. Not even a full day after passing the exam, Roy was called to the scene of yet another murder victim, and who else would show up with Hughes but the newest State Alchemist?

"What is he _doing_ here, Hughes?" Roy hissed, holding his friend back from entering the alley with the rest of the investigations team.

"Sorry, Roy. He was with me when I got the call and insisted on coming along. What was I supposed to do?"

"Tell him _no_, you moron! He's twelve!"

"And he outranks me, or did you forget?" Hughes shot Roy a frown, his glasses glinting. "We might both technically be majors, but Ed is a State Alchemist and that puts him above me on the food chain. If he tells me he's coming along, that's not a suggestion, Roy. It's an order."

Roy clenched his teeth, his hands fisted so tightly his nails dug into his palms. "Damn it."

Hughes patted Roy's shoulder in what was probably meant to be a comforting way. Instead, Roy felt like he was being humored. Or maybe chided.

"Fix your face, Roy. He can't see you like this."

In the chaos of trying to remove the dead woman's child from the scene of the incident, the body was uncovered, and Roy didn't have to guess what was going through Ed's mind as the twisted, bloody corpse came into view. Roy had been there, after all, not even an hour after the transmutation took place. He'd seen the room, the circle, the blood.

The _thing_.

Thank Truth he hadn't let Riza follow him into the study. Despite everything they'd witnessed in Ishval, none of it could compare to what Roy had found inside that room.

He'd wanted to burn it, all of it, so no one else would ever know what the two boys had tried, but he couldn't bring himself to be so disrespectful. Instead, after giving Ed his spirit lifting speech, Roy had allowed himself to be dragged off and scolded by Pinako Rockbell. After the woman finished twisting his ear (both literally and figuratively) Roy offered his help in disposing of the thing the boys had made. It wasn't an apology, but it was the closest thing Roy could manage.

They buried the body together in the Elric brother's garden in an almost companionable silence. At the very least, the two seemed to understand each other a bit more in that moment. Then Roy went back inside to remove the circle and blood as best he could, and that was it. He and Riza left without a backward glance.

Roy should have expected it when Ed fainted at the sight of the dead woman, but he didn't. For some reason, he'd thought Ed was stronger than that. But why would he be? The kid was _twelve_.

"Oh, Lt. Colonel Mustang," Tucker said as he opened the front door of his mansion. He looked surprised. "Can I help you with something?"

Roy's eyebrow twitched, but he suppressed his reflexive scowl with a casual shrug. "Just checking in. I wanted to make sure Edward made it back all right."

"Oh yes, he's just fine." Tucker pushed up his glasses with an almost smug expression. "I've been keeping an eye on him."

Roy tensed. Something about the way Tucker said that…The words themselves were innocent enough, but it felt like something completely different. Something sinister.

_The exam is over_, Roy decided. _There's no reason for the boys to stay here another night_.

A few carefully planted seeds of information got word back to Brigadier General Basque Grand that Ed and Al had been snooping where they shouldn't be regarding Tucker's research, and as expected, the boisterous 'shoot first ask questions never' Iron-Blood Alchemist ordered the boys out of the house right then and there. Roy had expected the boys to head to the nearest hotel or even to ask Hughes to stay with him. He did not expect to step into his office following a late lunch to find Ed and Al sprawled across his couch and floor looking through the few alchemy texts he kept in his office.

Fortunately, they weren't anything dangerous.

"What's got you boys coming over today?" Roy checked the calendar just in case, but it was only Thursday. His brow furrowed at the pair. "What did you do?"

"Colonel!" Alphonse exclaimed. He sounded both hurt and amused. "Why would you assume it's something we did?"

Roy quirked an eyebrow. "Is it?"

He knew it wasn't—it was something _he'd_ done, after all—but _they_ certainly didn't need to know that.

"No!" Both brothers said at once. Edward scowled up at him, still sprawled across the floor.

"Some big military guy with a creepy mustache showed up and said we were snooping where we didn't belong. He told us we couldn't stay with Mr. Tucker anymore, so we left."

"And…what? You're planning to stay here?"

Ed scoffed. "Don't be dense, Colonel Idiot—"

"Brother!"

"—we came here cause we didn't know where else to go. Or did you forget we're not from around here?"

"All right, all right." Roy offered the boys a dramatic shrug and a deep, drawn out sigh. "I suppose it can't be helped. Since you're both clearly too little to do it yourselves—"

"Who are you calling a kid so small you'd need a magnifying glass to see him?!"

"—I guess I can get you a room at the hotel I'm staying in."

"Really, Colonel?" Alphonse said, and the level of surprise and delight did strange things to Roy's stomach. Did the kid honestly think he'd leave them to manage for themselves out on the streets? In Central, of all places? While a _serial killer_ was on the loose?

"But of course." Roy flicked his bangs out of his face and smirked. "It's the least I can do for those beneath me."

"Who are you calling a microscopic bug, you smug bastard?!"

Holding back a snicker, Roy reached down with both hands and ruffled the boys' hair. Well, he ruffled Ed's hair. Even sitting on the couch, it was easier for Roy to pat Al on one large shoulder.

"Come you two. Let's get you settled in for the night."

It wasn't until late the next day—too late the next day—that Roy learned the brothers had gone back to the Tucker Mansion to fulfill their promise to play with Nina. The results of that encounter were horrific. Ed was traumatized—not unexpectedly—when he woke up the morning after Tucker's monstrous transmutation and learned both Nina and her father had been killed, blown up, while locked inside their mansion as Tucker awaited transportation to Central Prison.

He hated himself, standing inside that house with that poor girl's remains splattered across the walls, as he stood there with a black face and dead eyes telling Ed to get over it, be grateful, move on with his life. But he said it anyway because Ed needed to hear it. He needed to really, truly understand what he'd gotten himself into because until that moment, he hadn't. He thought he knew, thought he'd seen and done the most horrific things that could be seen or done in this world (and until Shao Tucker, Mustang hadn't thought that assessment was very far off), but when all was said and done, Edward and Alphonse were still clean. Still innocent. Still _perfect_. And Roy wouldn't let the Military break them of that.

He'd do it himself first.

It was the worst possible thing Roy could do, but that's how you break someone. You push on their weaknesses until they collapse.

Havoc didn't want to take Ed to Tucker's house to catalogue his monsters, but Roy was a coward and made him. Just because he had to break the Elric boys, did that also mean he had to be there? To see it?

Turns out, he saw it anyway.

When Ed turned in his watch, Roy was actually glad. It hadn't taken anywhere near as much to break the kid as he'd thought, and this way, it would be obvious to any higher-up wanting to take advantage of the brothers that twelve was too young to be of any use. In three, four, maybe five years' time, Roy could reach out again, see where the boys were in their lives and alchemy, and give Ed the option to sign up again.

It certainly didn't hurt that Roy was already slated for promotion. And with the process in motion, it couldn't be stopped even if Ed did resign.

But then of course, of _course_, _of course_ Ed had to go and get himself tangled up in Hughes' murder investigation by getting _abducted by the murderer_.

The sheer terror Roy felt, the helplessness, the self-hatred, the desperation. He hadn't felt that way since Ishval. And then the kid had the nerve, the audacity, to march back into Roy's office first thing the next morning and request to be reinstated as a State Alchemist _on one condition_.

That was fine. Roy had some conditions of his own.

"What about Youswell, sir?" Riza laid the manila folder on Roy's desk amidst the scattered collection of its rejected companions. "It's in the east, only abut half-a-day's journey by train, and there are no connections to be made. The town is said to be quaint and quiet with very little crime outside of misdemeanors committed by unruly minors. The mines are well kept, and the town's inn is said to be small but comfortable. Considering how few visitors they receive, the boys should have no trouble securing lodging for themselves."

"Youswell, huh?" Roy took the file and looked through it. The lieutenant in charge of the military outpost looked like a weasel, but Roy doubted he had anything to throw at the kid that Fullmetal couldn't line up and bat back. It was, admittedly, a bit further away than Roy was comfortable with for the kid's very first mission, but his team was packing up to head back east by the end of the week anyway. Besides, he could always have Breda trail the kids to make sure nothing went wrong.

Roy nodded. "That should work just fine. Where are the boys now?"

"I checked in on them this morning. They're out shopping with their friend Winry."

Roy stifled a grimace. He didn't want to interrupt, but he couldn't afford to be soft on Ed. If it came out that Lt. Col. Mustang had a soft spot for a pair of unruly brats, it would paint all sorts of targets on the kids' backs.

"Send an escort to locate him and bring him here for a briefing. I want him on the next train to Youswell."

"Yes, sir."

"And Lieutenant?"

Riza paused at the door and turned. "Sir?"

"Make sure he knows the field alchemist check-in policy."

Riza's brow furrowed. "We don't have a check-in policy for field agents, sir."

Roy quirked an eyebrow, and Riza's expression softened with realization. "Yes, of course. Understood, sir."

Left alone, Roy released a slow, deep breath and turned to the window with his fingers laced beneath his chin. It was a hard road he'd chosen, dealing with those two boys, but as long as he was careful, meticulous, _deliberate_, it would all work out in the end. Roy would keep moving up, and that would allow the boys to keep moving forward.

It wasn't much, but for right now, it was enough.

And in the meantime, Roy would keep checking in.

Just in case.

* * *

Kaliea: So as you have probably guessed, I use a combination of both Anime, the Manga, and my own personal Head-Cannon (that coat Alphonse was wearing at the end of Brotherhood was totally, totally Roy's!) to create my FMA stories. Plot-wise, it's all Brotherhood/Manga, but there are some aspects of the story that I just loved from the first series, like how much better we get to know Hughes and how much closer to him the boys are, over the second one. I also thought it was strange that Shou Tucker was supposedly the 'go-to' guy for bio-alchemy and yet not even six months after his death we find out that human/chimera hybrids are as common as breathing. That being said, it makes more sense to me that Nina died when Ed and Al were younger, so that's the route I've chosen to take. I'm not yet sure how I'll reconcile this with their first run-in with Scar, but then, I don't necessarily have to. I'm sure something could happen off-screen that's suitably awful enough for Ed and Al to sulk about it in the rain.

On another note, while I will be adding to this collection on occasion, please be aware that my one shot FMA stories also fall into this combination universe I'm creating. The reason being, I'm currently in the middle of planning a massively ambitious multi-chapter fic that will largely rely on fleshing out the relationships displayed in Brotherhood. I want them to be realistic but also telling with lots of 'found family' interaction. I don't know when or how often I'll update this collection, so I apologize in advance, but I do know I'm not going to upload _Beyond the Gate_ until after I've finished my current project, _The Ordinary Life of Saiki Kusuo_. That should give me plenty of time for plotting and to build a chapter reserve so I can update more regularly.

Special thanks goes out to all those who have supported my stories thus far. I've grown a lot as a writer through FF. net, and I couldn't do it without my readers. I won't ask for reviews to keep going, but I'll certainly take, and gladly, whatever support you're willing to offer. Fanfiction is fun for me, it's an escape from my everyday life and something I need to do to keep my skills sharp and versatile without getting bogged down by my personal projects.

So for all of you who have continued with me on this long, crazy adventure I've found myself on these last seventeen years: Thank You. It's been a blast. And I hope to share with you many more years to come.

Best,

Kaliea


	2. Seconds - 16 & 15

**The Ties that Bind**

A series of related one-shots that range from Roy finding Ed and Al in Resembool and far, far beyond. Not chronological. EdWin, AlMei, Royai Parental!RoyEdAl Parental!RizaEdAl

* * *

**Seconds**

_Older Brother 16, Younger Brother 15_

Roy bounced his knee and tapped his fingers at the same time as he waited for the train to roll out of Pleonuk Station and further south to Resembool. He and Riza had already been waiting for a good thirty-minutes, but last time the Captain got up to check, the conductor had apologized for the wait but they couldn't leave yet because the boiler had a ruptured pipe. They were currently waiting on a new engine being brought down from East City.

Grumbling, Roy laced his fingers together to stop the tapping and pressed his elbows down on his knees. Naturally, as soon as he learned of the problem, Roy had offered to repair the boiler with alchemy—it would hardly take a second to clap his hands and boom! They'd be on their way. But no, the station engineer had looked positively green at the idea before tentatively asking if Roy knew how the engine was made, what it was made of, or where exactly the hole was that needed patched. And yeah, that was all annoying and insulting, especially for an alchemist of his caliber. Of course, he knew how boilers worked, the main components of a Beatmore Boiler were iron and carbon—i.e. steal—and who cares if he knew where the leak was? He could just use his alchemy to redistribute the metal evenly across the entirety of the machine.

But no, the engineer insisted on doing the repairs the hard way—probably trying to justify his paycheck—and the engine driver concurred. They were, after all, only an hour out of East City. It wouldn't take that long to get a replacement. When Roy tried to argue that he had an important mission and he needed to get to Resembool as soon as possible, he received the engine driver's regrets. Then, assuming his civilian attire made him less recognizable to the podunk masses, he even pulled rank on the guy—being a newly promoted Major General had to be good for _something_—but the conductor reminded Roy that the East Amestris Railway Company was privately owned, and therefore outside of military command barring a military emergency.

Roy would have declared a state of emergency, too, except Riza glared him down and shooed him from the station office with a less than subtle flick of her eyes. So now Roy sat in his private compartment at the front of a train that wasn't moving and literally counted the seconds it took for the replacement engine to arrive. He was currently at 2,827.

The door to Roy's compartment slid open and he jerked upright, his eyes locking immediately onto the deep brown of his Captain.

"The new engine has arrived, sir. They're installing it now."

He blew out a sharp breath. "About time! Did they say how long it would take?"

"About twenty minutes, sir."

Roy groaned. "_Seriously_?"

"You need to be patient, sir. Those boys aren't going anywhere anytime soon."

Gritting his teeth, Roy sat back on the bench and did his best not to sulk like a child. He wanted to explain to her why he was so desperate, but he wasn't sure she would understand. Hell, he wasn't entirely sure _he_ understood. Only five months ago, Roy had resigned himself to only touches to ensure they were safe and well and whole because Truth, the bastard, took the eyes he used to see the future. Including _their _futures. But now, thanks to Dr. Marco, Roy could see again, and suddenly those touches, almost three months old now, weren't enough anymore.

A warm palm settled over the back of Roy's left hand where it clutched at his pant leg. Again, onyx met chocolate and the amount of warmth and understanding radiating from Riza's soft expression almost made Roy's breath catch. She smiled, gently squeezing his hand.

"Soon, General. It will only be a few minutes longer."

Drawing a deep, steading breath, Roy straightened in his seat and nodded. "Right, of course. Thank you, Captain."

"Of course, sir." Riza withdrew her hand and took a seat on the bench opposite him. They sat in a familiar, companionable silence as Riza looked through the budget for the Ishval Revitalization Plan and Roy continued counting seconds.

At 3,354, the train began to move.

It was about 20km from Pleonuk to Kaumufy where they had another stop for the loading and unloading of passengers. Again, Roy's leg began to bounce and his fingers to tap, but the stop was gratifyingly brief, only 769 seconds, and then they were once again headed south.

932 seconds closer to Resembool, the late evening sun had nearly disappeared with only a few streaks of rose and amber mixed between the deepening indigos and violets. Roy stopped bouncing his knee and fisted his black trouser leg.

"What if they're not home? Or asleep already? Should we have called?" The boys had always kept odd hours while with the military, but being back home, and with Alphonse still on the mend, they probably had a more structured schedule. "We should have called."

He was grateful Riza refrained from the "I told you so" he was sure was on the tip of her tongue. But when they had left, a phone call seemed like such a waste of time. It was only six hours to Resembool from Central, and they'd left a little before noon. How was he supposed to know it would end up being closer to eight?

"There's a communications room on board, right?" Roy jumped to his feet. "I'll call the Resembool station and have them send a message to the boys. Or a telegram if they don't have a phone. It's a small town, they probably don't—"

"General, please sit down," Riza said before Roy's hand could even touch the brass handled door. "Judging by the amount of time we've been traveling combined with the train's speed, we should be in Resembool in the next fifteen minutes. By the time the phone operator was able to connect you, we would have already arrived.

"They might have a radio—"

Riza's eyes connected with his over the tops of her papers. Roy sighed and sat down.

1259 seconds.

…

1987 seconds.

…

2243 seconds.

Roy watched the land move as he counted. He liked just looking at things now. Colors in particular. He never cared to know the difference between chartreuse and shamrock before losing his eyesight (he hadn't even known those colors existed) but now he not only knew there was a difference, he could tell the difference, even at a distance. He watched as the evening shadows swallowed up the shamrock colored hills outside, darkening them more and more until they were almost black, but not quite; there was still a hint of green.

_Sable black_, Roy recalled, a wry smirk on his lips. Was there another man in Amestris who knew black came in shades?

2379 seconds.

The train whistle blew, nearly startling Roy off the spruce blue bench.

"It sounds like we're getting close," Riza said not a moment before a knock sounded on their compartment door.

"Come in!" Roy called, half-rising. The door slid open and a conductor stood just outside. He tipped his hat at the military pair.

"Pardon the interruption. Just wanted to let you know we're about to pull into Resembool Station. This is the end of the line, as well, so unless you plan to head back toward East City later tonight, you'll need to find accommodations. Would you like a recommendation?"

"No, thank you," Roy said, forcing his voice to remain even. "We've already made arrangements."

Another tilt of his hat, and the conductor was gone; closing the door behind him.

"There, sir," Riza said, not a speck of inflection in her tone, though Roy was sure she was mocking him. "We've just about arrived."

Roy grunted and settled back in his seat. Less than a hundred seconds later, the train began to slow. It coasted slower and slower before easing to a stop with the hiss and squeal of breaks, but Roy was on his feet, out of his compartment, and half-way down the corridor before the wheels had fully locked in place.

"End of the line!" a conductor called up and down the corridors. "All disembark. Return tickets are required for anyone riding the line back north."

Roy jumped from the open train door and onto the platform without sparing so much as a glance for the shallow metal stairs. In their haste to leave—well, Roy's haste—they had only one bag between them, and it held only documents. Yet another thing Riza had protested, but he'd thrown out some half-intelligible counter about supporting local businesses, and she'd let it go with barely an eye roll.

"Welcome to Resembool," the stationmaster said as Roy, followed not too far behind by Riza, passed beneath the arch leading from the platform toward the town proper. The man did a double take.

"Oh, hey! I know you." He stepped up to Roy with a wide grin and doffed his wool newsboy cap. "You're him, right? Colonel Mustang! I remember you from a while back, and them Elric boys was talking 'bout you the whole way through town."

Roy blinked. "Edward and Alphonse did?"

"Well, Al did, sure as right, but Ed didn't say nothin' against it, so I figure that says enough on its own." The man chuckled. "You sure made a real stir, sir, what with you leading our Ed off to East City and into the military all them years back, but he sure did make a name for himself, didn't he?"

He rubbed the back of his head with a bemused grin. "Who'd have guessed our boys would help the Feuhrer save the whole country? It's a hell of a thing, that's for sure."

Roy stared at the man. "I…yes, it was. Those boys were invaluable in the fight. Probably the truest heroes I've ever known."

He hadn't meant to say so much about how he felt, but the man was so artless, Roy couldn't stop himself. Word would probably get back to the Elrics, but Ed would never believe it, and Roy would deny saying it anyway, so he figured it was fine.

"I suppose you're here to be seeing them?" The man frowned suddenly, confused. "Say, weren't you supposed to have lost your sight in the fight? Al was sayin' about it."

"I did." Roy passed a hand over both eyes, still amazed at the shift of colors and shades of light after half-a-year of nothing but the deepest, emptiest blackness. "But there was an experimental treatment back in central. I was only just discharged from the hospital this morning."

"An' you came straight here?" For some reason, the man beamed as he said it. "An' here I am keepin' you here! Go on, go on! I'm sure you'll be wantin' to see them boys right proper after all this time."

Roy gritted his teeth through his sudden blush but didn't deny it.

"General?"

Roy's head snapped up at the sound of Riza's voice. She stood at the mouth of the station arch; her beige, autumn coat draped over one arm. "I was able to secure us a ride through town, but we'll likely need to walk the rest of the way."

_Great_, Roy sighed. _Even more seconds wasted_.

Bidding farewell to the statin master, Roy followed Riza to a wheat colored pickup truck idling outside the station. They climbed into the open bed, and Roy spoke to the driver, Vance Sylverman, through the open back window.

"The Elrics, eh? You know them from the city or something?"

"Or something," Roy agreed. "I was Ed's commanding officer before he retired."

"Oh! Colonel Mustang, then. Yeah, Gladys and I have heard all about you from them boys."

An odd warmth settled over Roy's heart as the man talked about everything he'd learned about Roy from Ed and Al (but mostly Al). He'd never expected the boys to talk about him, and certainly not with the glowing tones Vance's recounting seemed to imply. And the more the man spoke about how happy the townsfolk were to have the boys back and how much they'd grown and matured and how educated and sophisticated (Roy had to stifle a snort at that; Ed, sophisticated?), the warmer and more comfortable his heart became.

"They were wild things when they left here, for sure," Vance said as he turned out of town and onto a single-lane dirt road. "All flighty and intense and never paying attention in school. My Gladys was their schoolteacher, you know? Said there was never a day gone by that they didn't have their heads in some book they weren't supposed to be reading. Still got top marks in everything, of course. Them boys always were too smart for their own good. But it's been tempered now, hasn't it? Even Ed's got that short fuse of his on a longer burn. You must have done good with them up there in the city."

Roy tamped down his grin to a soft smile. "I'm afraid I didn't have much to do with it. They're just good boys."

"They are that," Vance agreed, his headlights bright enough to light up the road for a good mile. Not that there was anything to see. "But it takes a good man to raise good boys, Colonel. And I'm thinking you're that kind of man."

Again, Roy couldn't fight down the blush burning his cheeks, and he looked away. His eyes landed on Riza who was watching him with an amused quirk of her lips.

"Something to say, Captain?" Roy asked lowly. Riza shook her head.

"Not a thing, General."

To Roy's surprise, Vance took him and Riza all the way to the bottom of the Rockbell's hill instead of dropping them back where the rode forked. When Roy thanked him, Vance waved him off.

"Weren't nothing. I don't live too far from here anyway. Not much of a stretch to go all the way if I was going so far in the first place."

"We're grateful to you," Riza said with a polite bow. "Not only for the ride, but for keeping an eye on Edward and Alphonse. It's a relief to know that they have the support of so many good people."

Vance blushed and scratched his cheek with one finger. "Ain't nothing. We Resembool folk stick together, is all. And if you're there for Ed and Al, well, that makes you two Resembool enough for me."

More thanks were passed around before Vance begged off to head home. Roy and Riza lingered at the bottom of the hill to wave him off.

"This is a strange place, isn't it, Captain?"

"Strange, sir?"

"Yeah." Roy smiled after the truck's diminishing taillights. "But in the best ways, I think. If I ever had the choice, I wouldn't mind having grown up here."

A knowing expression softened Riza's face and she nodded. "I think I understand, sir."

They lingered a moment longer, just enjoying the silence. But the incessant ticking of seconds in the back of Roy's mind had him moving sooner rather than later.

"Come on," he said, pivoting to start up the hill. "We should hurry before it gets any later."

The higher Roy climbed up the hill, the harder his heart thudded in his chest. He wanted to blame it on the climb, but he was hardly so out of shape that a little hill could get his blood rushing. Dashing his sweaty palms on his pants, Roy stifled a curse. What was he so nervous about? It was only the Elric brothers.

Roy's steps grew shorter as he reached the porch, his heart a battle drum behind his ribs. Riza passed him on the stairs as he followed more slowly behind. No hesitation plagued her as she rapped her knuckles twice against the door in crisp, resonating knocks.

One second.

Three seconds.

Five—

The door opened, and Winry Rockbell's head popped out. "Yes? Oh! Lieutenant Riza!" Her eyes darted about in the near darkness until they landed on Roy, as if there was no doubt in her mind that if Riza was there, so would he be.

That wasn't too far off the mark either.

"Colonel Mustang!" She hurried out the door and reached for him where he still stood, clinging to the banister with one hand, on the second to last stair. "Are you okay? Here, let me help you."

Her small hands wrapped around his free arm, bracing him, and it took a startled moment before Roy realized she thought he was still blind. He looked down at her, and the sudden swelling of affection he felt took him off guard. She really was a good girl, wasn't she? Ed better shape up soon and realize how lucky he was, or he'd lose her.

"I'm all right, Winry," Roy said, though he didn't pull his arm away. "Really."

"Oh!" Winry blushed. "I didn't mean to make you feel awkward or anything, Colonel. I just didn't want you to fall; that is, some of the deck boards aren't even. Ed said he'd fix them, but you know Ed. He never does anything until he absolutely has—"

Winry stopped short of the door and stared at Roy. Stared right into his eyes that were looking unwaveringly at her. Her mouth fell into a soft 'oh' and her eyes widened.

"Colonel…" she breathed; her tone hesitant as if saying something out loud would jinx him. "Your _eyes_…"

Roy smiled. "I'm here to see Alphonse."

Her eyes widened further, tears rimming them, and she swallowed hard before ducking her head to dash the tears away. "Of course! Please come in; I'll get him right away!"

"Get who right away?" Ed's voice drifted from upstairs, and Roy's head instinctively snapped that direction as Winry lead him inside, her hands still clutching his arm. "Who's at the…Colonel?"

Ed paused on the steps, his head cocked as he eyed his former commanding officer. "What the heck are you doing here? And so late?"

"I apologize for the hour," Roy said, his eyes racking over every inch of Edward's form. His hair was pulled back in a ponytail rather than his usual braid and he was dressed down in a black tank top and a pair of loose black pants. Roy's eyes lingered on Ed's right arm before continuing. The boy was taller, _much_ taller, than Roy remembered. And though he'd already known that from their time together at the hospital, seeing it did strange things to Roy's insides. Part of him was proud of the man Ed had become, but the rest of him was honestly sad to have missed it.

"There was a problem with the train engine, and we were delayed."

Ed shrugged. "It's fine, I guess. Were you planning to stay here tonight? Oh, hey Lieutenant Hawkeye."

Riza stepped up beside Roy and smiled. "Hello, Edward. You're looking well."

"Heh." Ed blushed and scratched his cheek with a sheepish grin. "Thanks. You should see Al, though. You won't even recognize him!"

_Al_. Roy swallowed hard and his heart picked up again. As if sensing the shift in him, Winry squeezed Roy's arm and looked up at him with a bright grin. "I'll go get him, Colonel. You just wait right here."

"Get Al?" Ed asked. He waved Winry down. "I'll grab him. Hold on."

"Wait, Ed!" Winry called, but he had already disappeared back upstairs. Winry huffed. "Honestly, that boy. He didn't even notice!"

"It's fine," Roy said, his eyes focused entirely on the stairs. Waiting. Counting.

Seven seconds.

Thirteen seconds.

Twenty seconds.

Two pairs of footsteps sounded from above, one set mismatched and heavy, the other set soft and slow.

"Colonel? Lieutenant?"

Alphonse appeared on the stairs, clutching the banister with both hands, and Roy stopped breathing as he stared.

_Oh_…Roy actually teared up. _He's **beautiful**_.

He was taller than Ed (which wasn't all that hard, even now), and still a bit thinner than he would likely be a year or so from now, but it was a healthier skinny than the skin and bones Roy remembered from the desperate touches he'd all but forced on the boy all those months ago. His hair was short and neat, the same color as autumn wheat, and his golden eyes shown with a curious light. He tilted his head and smiled as he made his way, carefully, down the stairs with Ed hovering only a step or two behind, ready to catch him if he fell.

"What are you doing here?" Al asked. "Not that we don't want to see you! You're always welcome here. It's just…" He paused on the steps, staring at Roy in much the same way Winry had. "Colonel…are…you crying?"

_Shit_, Roy realized. He really was, wasn't he?

A flash of shame went through him, making Roy want to turn away or cover his eyes, but he couldn't. It was irrational, but he was sure that if he let Al out of his sight for even a second, the flesh and blood boy would disappear.

"Sorry," Roy said, trying his best not to choke. "I just…I wasn't expecting…"

Unable to say more—he wasn't even sure what he was trying to say—Roy shook his head and strode forward. Al's eyes widened and he hurried down the last half of the stairs at a reckless pace.

"Colonel, be careful! We got inventory today from East City and it's all over the floor—!" Al missed a step and pitched headfirst down the stairs.

"Al!" Ed lunged.

Roy got there first.

"Easy Alphonse." He eased Al onto a step and grinned at the boy, pushing his golden bangs out of his face. "And you had the nerve to tell me to be careful?"

Al stared Roy in the eye, his mouth working wordlessly until he just lifted a hand and waved it back and forth in front of Roy's face. He rolled his eyes.

"That doesn't actually do anything you know. Whether I can see or not, waving like that isn't going to let you tell the difference."

"Colonel!" Al lunged at Roy, slamming into his chest and knocking them both down the last three stairs. They bounced onto the landing in a pile, and Roy 'oof-ed' when he ended up on his back with Al's elbow in his diaphragm. He really didn't care.

Seconds stretched into hours as Roy lay there, cradling the sobbing boy to his chest as he stroked soft spikes of short golden hair.

"Easy, Alphonse. I'm all right."

"But you weren't!" Al sobbed. "You weren't all right at all, and we just left you in Central!"

"Of course, you did! As you should have done. As I _told you_ to do. Do you know how dangerous it would be for the two of you in Central once it came out that Ed's alchemy was gone and you could barely walk? You two made your fair share of enemies, and even if you hadn't, _I _certainly have." Levering them up with one hand, Roy scooted backward so he was leaning against the wall, still holding Al close. "You both needed the chance to recover and adapt in a safe place, and that wasn't going to happen in Central."

"What in the heck is going on?" Ed demanded, sounding a bit shaken as he descended the stairs at a slow, even pace. Roy looked up and read confusion and uncertainty in the boy's decidedly more masculine face. Their eyes locked and Ed drew a sharp breath.

"No way…"

Roy grinned. "Would you believe Knox found Dr. Marco who just happened to get his hand on another stone from somewhere?"

Ed gaped, his eyes widening like saucers, and Roy felt suddenly self-conscious. His grin faded as he eyed Ed and tried to work out what to say. One second. Five seconds. Ten seconds.

"Look, Fullmetal…Edward." Two seconds. "I know how you feel about the Philosophers Stones, and I know using one this way was selfish and maybe even wrong, but—"

"Shut up you idiot colonel," Ed said, his voice soft and tense. "You think I care about that?"

Of course, Ed cared about that. That's Roy had been trying to _explain_.

Reaching the landing, Ed knelt beside his brother and leaned in, almost glaring into Roy's eyes. Nine seconds. He lifted his pointer finger—his flesh and bone _right_ finger—and held it vertically in front of Roy's face.

"Follow," Ed said before slowly moving his finger left then right then back again. Roy tracked it as ordered. He knew Ed needed this—and Al too, if his eager eyes and bated breath were any indication—so he didn't scoff or protest. Ed's hand started to shake halfway through his second pass until the tremor became too much and he dropped his hand in disbelief. Off to the side, Winry gave a choked half-sob half-squeal while Riza hummed softly in agreement.

Eleven seconds.

"When?" Ed asked.

"This morning," Roy said at once, trying to disguise his uncertainty with bravado. It didn't quite work. "I was discharged just before noon."

Ed's eyes widened. "And you came straight _here_?"

Roy shrugged, shifting his grip on Al so he could rest his other hand on Ed's soft, warm, flesh right arm. "I needed to see you." He looked down at Al and smiled. "Both of you."

Ed choked and ducked his head. "You…damn stupid _bastard_…"

Relieved, Roy finally stopped counting.

* * *

Kaliea: My endings are always so terrible! I just get to a point where I'm like, "now what?" and I just stop. I promise I'll try to get better moving forward.

Anyway, this story was totally an excuse for shameless Parental!RoyAl. I love the two of them together and they really don't get enough attention. I also couldn't get the idea out of my head of the first time Roy sees Al in the flesh, and I totally couldn't imagine him waiting even a single second after getting his vision back before deciding to head to Resembool first thing. Hence this story. It's a bit out of character near the end, but I'm using the fact that they're all still pretty high-strung emotionally following the Promised Day, plus Roy seeing Al for the first time and Al still a bit sensory deprived and Ed...well...we all know he's a softy at heart ;P

Thank's for reading!


	3. Baby Boy - 20 & 19

**The Ties that Bind**

A series of related one-shots that range from Roy finding Ed and Al in Resembool and far, far beyond. Not chronological. EdWin, AlMei, Royai Parental!RoyEdAl Parental!RizaEdAl

* * *

**Baby Boy**

_Older Brother 20, Younger Brother 19_

Roy was late getting to work. Again. But he actually had a legitimate excuse this time! Well, _he_ thought it was pretty good anyway. After all, how often is someone trapped behind a line of migrating ducks crossing the street? He'd even honked at them and one of the little yellow ducklings had only stopped to give him an indignant quack before waddling along after its brothers and sisters with Mom at the head of the line. So yeah, he was legitimately fifteen minutes late because a bunch of ducks had to choose that morning to cross the breadth of Main Street in the middle of downtown East City.

They must have been canal ducks, because where else would they have even come from?

"Good morning, Major," Roy said, keeping his tone bright in anticipation of the monotonous dressing down he surely had coming.

Silence.

Roy blinked, staring at Riza who sat at her desk with her fingers laced together beneath her chin. She was staring down at something on her desk—some form or letter from a higher up? Whatever it was, her expression was such that Roy was sure she'd set it, any surrounding document, and probably the entire desk on fire if she so much as blinked. It wasn't that she looked angry per say, but there was definitely a discontented smolder lurking beneath the surface.

"Major?"

Riza stirred and looked up. Her eyes shifted from dark and almost broody to recognition. "Oh, General. You're early."

_Oh wow, something must be **seriously** wrong_. "Are you all right, Major?"

"Of course, General. Just so you know, I updated your schedule this morning. Edward is supposed to call tomorrow to check-in so Winry is coming up from Resembool this afternoon. I can send someone to pick her up, but I made room in your schedule if you would prefer to meet her yourself."

"I'll get her." As if there was any doubt. The last time Roy had sent someone else to pick Winry up from the station, she'd been kidnapped by Drachmans.

Riza pulled his schedule over and rearranged his timetable. "Very good, sir."

Silence.

"Is…there anything else, Major?"

"Hm?" Riza looked up from writing. "Oh, yes." She set her pen aside and picked up an open envelope in tandem with a sheaf of tri-folded papers. "Alphonse has sent us another letter. He included part of his research for you to look through regarding serial isolation theory. I took the liberty of requisitioning research from the East Library to supplement your understanding."

"Thank you, Major," Roy said, not expecting anything less. This had been an arrangement of theirs since Ed and Al first arrived in East City all those years ago. It always frustrated Edward to no end how Roy always seemed to be one step ahead of him on any active alchemical theories, no matter how obscure.

"Also…" An almost pained look flitted across Riza's face. "About Alphonse…"

A jolt of pain went through Roy's heart, lancing through every nerve in his body. Was he hurt? Did someone come after him? Those chimaeras were supposed to be watching him! If they let something happen to Al, Roy would string the frog up by his own spit and pull the pig's entrails out through his nose!

"_What happened_?"

Riza frowned and slowly, reluctantly, extended a photograph.

_It's a ransom photo. Some radical Xingese group got ahold of him and is using him as leverage against Ling and Amestris as a way to usurp the new Emperor_.

Roy forced himself not to snatch it from her fingers as he took it and flipped it around.

_How far is it to Xing? Youswell is the last town on the Eastern line; about three hours out. If we buy/steal/commandeer a desert capable vehicle at the boarder, we could reach Xing in only sixteen hours—_

Alphonse smiled up from the photo looking very much not kidnapped. He was dressed in traditional Xingese clothing that was a stark contrast to the brown tweed suit Roy remembered helping the boy pick out two Promised Days back, but not in a bad way. The blue silk shirt had a high collar held together with cloth-knot buttons with gold thread woven through the yellow-brown color to make them glitter in the light. The buttons matched his hair and eyes perfectly, and Roy had no doubt a woman was involved in that selection.

Pulling his eyes from Al's grinning face, Roy found the most likely culprit. Mei Cheng, if he remembered correctly. She was Ling Yao's younger sister and had been in Central on the First Promised Day. She looked older now—as expected, it had been four years since then, so she was probably about fourteen or fifteen now—but he remembered her as being so small.

_Fierce, though. That girl was a fighter for sure._

She wore a red dress in the same Xingese style decorated with the same gold buttons in a way that was decidedly deliberate. Roy smirked. It seemed Al had found himself a little admirer.

"Cute picture," Roy said, shifting from the kids' faces to their surroundings. It seemed Mei and Al were taking a break from Alkahestry training—there was a circle half-visible on the ground beneath their feet—to take tea. They were laughing together as Mei's little, weird cat had apparently upended a ribbed mug of tea over its head and was peaking out from beneath wet and bewildered.

Roy glanced up at Riza, his eyebrows raised. "Should I ask why it had you contemplating murder, Major?"

"I don't know what you mean, General."

"I'm really pretty sure you do, Major."

He and Riza locked stares, and he could see the wheels in her head turning as she debated whether she would confess on her own or wait for an order that may or may not come. It wouldn't come, he respected her too much to invade her private thoughts for something so trivial, but he hoped she'd tell him anyway because he was insanely curious.

"That girl bought Alphonse that shirt."

"I guessed that was the case. And?"

"She bought herself a dress to _match_, General."

There was something implied in that statement that Roy couldn't unpack, but it was apparently important. Deathly important, if Riza's expression was anything to go by.

"Yes…" Roy said, dragging the word out to give himself time to figure it out. He didn't. Riza sighed.

"Alphonse is far too young to have a girlfriend, sir."

Roy's eyes widened. "He's nineteen, you know? By the time I was that age, I'd already kissed a girl—"

Riza was unimpressed by that admission, probably because they'd sworn never to discuss that shared disastrous first ever, _ever_ again.

"—so I really can't fault the kid for finding someone he likes, assuming that's even the case." Roy flipped the picture around so Riza could see it. "This girl is _maybe_ fifteen. Al's too smart to get himself tangled up with someone so young. Especially considering she's the favorite sister of Emperor Ling Yao."

Roy really didn't want to contemplate what that phone call would be like. Ling might like Alphonse, but he doubted that would save the boy from the dungeon if Ling found out anything happened between Al and Mei before the princess was at least eighteen.

Hell, Roy would court-martial the boy himself. Considering Al wasn't part of the military—and technically never had been—Roy wasn't immediately sure how he would manage that, but he'd find some way.

_Maybe I'll just get Furher Grumman to suspend his passport. Can't mess around with pretty Xingese princesses if he's grounded._

"That isn't the _point_." With her teeth clenched, Riza was barely holding herself together from grabbing her gun and shooting something. Or some_one_.

Roy was beginning to think he might understand what was going through her head.

"We know nothing about this girl, and she doesn't have the decency to reach out to us before making such an obvious gesture of affection?" Riza looked down at her desk and started stacking her scattered papers with shaking hands. "What do we know about her family? Her career prospects? What are her political leanings? Does she want a family? And if she does want a family, does she intend to raise their children in Xing or Amestris? Because it will be far more difficult for us to meet with Alphonse on a regular basis if they permanently relocate to an entirely different _country_. Would he even know what that would entail?"

"I…think you may be jumping a bit too far ahead, Major. If anything like that comes about, it's still several years down the line—"

"Oh don't give me that!" The last semblance of Major Hawkeye flew out the window as Riza jumped from her chair and slammed her palms on the desk. It was probably the most disheveled he'd seen her in months, if not years. Somehow, the Elric brothers had become a trigger for her; nearly every major conflict occurring between Roy and Riza for almost ten years had involved the boys in one way or another. "If she's so invested in Alphonse that she's already picking them matching clothes, then an official relationship is only a matter of time!"

"Major—"

"Winry had the decency to contact me after discovering she had feelings for Edward, and _she_ was only fifteen. We had a lovely conversation about appropriate relationship pace and tentpoles. She kept me up to date during her and Ed's courtship—unconventional as it may have been—and she called me immediately from the train station after Ed proposed!"

Roy remembered that day. His ears had rung from Winry's phone-pitched squeals combined with Havoc and Fuery's for hours.

"But this girl? _This girl_?"

"You do remember that 'this girl' saved your life once?"

"This and that are entirely unrelated!"

Roy snickered, and Riza cut a sharp glare his way. "Something amusing, general?"

He tried to deny it, but the words wouldn't form around his valiantly stifled giggles. "I-I just—." Roy cleared his throat. "Are you having a baby boy moment? Over Alphonse?"

Riza stared, blank-faced save her ongoing glare that promised intense pain if he didn't choose his next words _very_carefully. "Baby boy moment, sir?"

Roy coughed to hide a laugh, partly because Riza looked so frazzled but also because she reminded him of a time when Madam Christmas had looked the exact same way over _him_. "You know, that moment when a mother realizes her son is growing up and is popular with all the ladies." He was wheezing now, trying his hardest to stay upright and not start slapping his knees with uncontrolled hysterics. "You know," giggle, "'that little hussy's corrupting my innocent baby!'"

"General," Riza growled. "Don't you have work to attend to?"

"Of course, Major." Cough, wheeze. "Carry on."

Roy barely made it to his office, door successfully closed, before the laughter doubled him over in a fit of giggles and tears.

* * *

Kaliea: I absolutely adore Riza's relationship with the boys. Doting Mom, Strict Mom, Confidant Mom, Patient Mom, Soccer Mom ("Kick his ass, Ed!"), I love it all. So here we get Overprotective Mom! Because I honestly think that, considering his circumstantes and personality, everyone would be super overprotective of Alphonse.

That, and I just loved the idea of Riza calling Mei Cheng a 'hussy' XD XD XD She didn't' in this story exactly because I couldn't figure out a non-ooc way for her to say it (she was already a bit ooc as is), so I let Roy say it for her :P

Thanks for reading!


	4. Every Promised Day - 1915

**The Ties that Bind**

A series of related one-shots that range from Roy finding Ed and Al in Resembool and far, far beyond. Not chronological. EdWin, AlMei, Royai Parental!RoyEdAl Parental!RizaEdAl

* * *

**Every Promised Day - 1915**

_Older Brother 16, Younger Brother 15_

Alphonse leaned against the rubbles wall Ed had propped him against when sitting up on his own became too much of a chore. Everyone in the courtyard had come to congratulate him on returning, even those who'd had no idea he never had a body in the first place. He'd been hugged by Mr. Sieg and Teacher, fortunately not been hugged by Major Armstrong, had Mei cling from his chest almost constantly, felt the continued presence of Ed's flesh right hand on his shoulder, shook hands with Ling, shared a smile with Lanfan, even his Dad had been there when he woke to clutch his emancipated hand, but he had yet to see them, and he wanted to so badly he refused to be moved until they arrived. Major Armstrong had threatened to carry Al to the hospital, but Ed convinced him that waiting for an ambulance would make more sense.

Unfortunately, that meant Al's waiting time was coming to an end; he could hear the sirens almost at the gate.

"You're sure you saw them, Brother? You're sure they were okay?"

"I'm sure I saw them, and I'm sure they were okay." Ed squeezed Al's shoulder with his right hand. He hadn't been able to stop touching the younger boy since pulling him back through the Gate. "I think a field medic grabbed Mustang just a bit ago. Probably checking his eyes."

Al blinked, his brow furrowed. "What happened to his eyes? Did he get cut? Did he lose one?! You said he was okay!"

"Calm down, Al! The colonel is fine. It's just the Truth thing."

"The Truth thing?" Al frowned, and looked around the decimated courtyard that Major Armstrong was slowly and methodically restoring with his alchemy. There was something going on that Al was only half aware of, but if Ed's casual tone was anything to go by, he clearly thought Al was already in on it.

But what was 'it'?

"The sacrifices…" Al muttered, his voice so low even he could barely hear it. "Me and Brother, Dad and Teacher; we all saw the Gate and met Truth…But why was the colonel there?"

"What was that Al?"

Al grabbed the front of Ed's shirt and yanked as hard as he could, pulling Ed off balance with a yelp.

"What the heck, Alphonse—!"

"Why was the colonel there?!"

"Wha—?"

"In that place underground, beneath Central Command, why was the colonel there with us? Why was he being used as a sacrifice when he hasn't ever seen the Truth?"

Ed gaped at him, not even a startled sound escaping his lips. Al tugged harder, bringing Ed's face next to his as he tried to work out why his chest was burning and his eyes were stinging and he _couldn't breathe_.

"Well?!"

"…Al…" There was so much pity in Ed's face and voice that Al was actually disgusted.

"Don't treat me like a kid, Ed! Not now! Not after everything we've been through! Just tell me; _how was the colonel a sacrifice_?"

"Because I've seen the Truth."

Al jumped. He'd been so focused on Ed that he hadn't noticed the crunch of gravel that must have accompanied the colonel's approach. His head jerking up—or as best his head could 'jerk' considering he had very little strength with which to lift it—Al looked up and up and up at Colonel Roy Mustang who stood over the two brothers with the afternoon sun hanging halo-esk behind his dark haired head. Al almost grew dizzy as he stared up at the man.

_I never realized the colonel was so tall_…

"Al." Roy crouched slowly, clutching a small hand as he lowered himself to the ground and Al realized belatedly that Lt. Hawkeye stood beside the colonel. She was bloodied and stern as usual, but there was a softness around her that Al recognized. It was the same softness that appeared whenever he or Ed entered her line of sight. She smiled down at Alphonse, her eyes glittering with barely brimming tears.

"Hello, Alphonse," she said, the smile on her lips permeating her voice as she reached out and brushed his long blond bangs away from his face. "I'm so glad you're finally back."

"Thank you, Lieutenant," Al said, but his eyes were drawn almost instantly away to lock on Roy's surprisingly peaceful expression. Al frowned after a moment when the colonel didn't open his eyes before a hollow, sucking feeling opened in his stomach and tried to vacuum his heart right out of his chest. "Colonel…You…you said you saw the Truth…"

"I did," Roy said, his voice soft and affirming without any hint of emotion. "Pride forced me to open the portal, turning me into their last sacrifice."

"He…_forced_ you?" Heat welled up inside Al, causing his brain to haze. "That—that's awful!" Then realization hit him full in the face and Al gasped. "Oh, Colonel; what did it take?"

There was a light puckering between Roy's brows as he lifted a hand and groped forward, clearly trying to touch Al but getting nowhere close. Al didn't hesitate to grasp that wandering hand with both of his own and clutch it tight.

"No." Al choked on the burning in this throat, blinked back the stinging in his eyes. "That's…that's not _fair_."

"It's not," Roy agreed, and Al was peripherally aware of Riza standing and beaconing Ed to join her off to the side, leaving he and Roy more or less alone. "But it happened, and I have to come to term with it."

"No you don't!" The words were ripped from Al almost against his will. "You don't have to at all! They took your _eyes_from you, Colonel! Took them! It wasn't even your choice; they _forced_ you to open the portal, and that's just…it's so _wrong_—"

"Alphonse." Roy's tone wasn't sharp or upset, but the quiet calm probably did more to cut through Al's hysteria than the loudest shout or strongest order. Al focused in on Roy's face and hated that the colonel's eyes were still closed. "It is wrong, it isn't fair, but it happened, Al. It _happened_. It's already done."

Al gritted his teeth, and the stinging in his eyes grew absolutely unbearable until the pain poured out as hot, salty, stinging tears. He collapsed forward, his body unable to sustain him anymore, and his forehead slammed into Roy's shoulder. The colonel grunted, surprised, but there was no hesitation as his arms came up to wrap Al in a tight, warm embrace.

"I'm sorry, Colonel. I'm sorry." Al sobbed. "I'm so, so sorry. This shouldn't have happened to you—_never_ to you—and I'm so _sorry_."

"I know, Al. I know. It's not your fault, but I know."

Al had no concept of time as he lay in Roy's arms sobbing himself sick, but the colonel didn't once loosen his grip, and at one point, he lifted a clumsy hand to stroke down Al's long, ratty hair.

"I'm so glad you're back," Roy was whispering when Al finally started winding down. "I wouldn't change a thing if it meant not getting you back, Al. Not a single thing."

That quiet admission stunned Al to silence. "…Not a thing?" Al asked, unable to comprehend the magnitude of what Roy was saying. Because it was huge. Roy wouldn't change his blindness? Would change his subordinates' reassignments? Wouldn't change General Hughes's _death_?

"There are things I wish had never happened, Al." Roy didn't pull back as he spoke; instead, he held Al tighter. "But if it meant losing you, never holding you like this, never having you here and safe and whole? No, Alphonse. I wouldn't change a thing."

Al's breathing turned ragged as more tears welled up. He'd never, in all his life, felt so…important, so treasured, so loved as he did right in this moment. He wasn't sure he ever would again. Hearing the colonel say this—something so inexplicably unbelievable—there was nothing Al could do but accept it. Because the colonel wouldn't lie to him. Not about this.

"I only wish…" His voice trailed off, prompting Al to glance up.

"Colonel?"

"I wouldn't change anything, Al, but I do wish…" Roy sighed and shifted his grip so his chin was rested on Al's hair. "I wish that I could see you."

Al choked on a sob and buried his face in Roy's chest. "Me too, Colonel. More than anything."

* * *

Kaliea: So I was watching the end of Brotherhood (again), and I realized Al was "gone" when Roy's blindness was explained. That coupled with the lack of Roy/Al reunion (which is _lame_), and this short was born. Yay!

Anywho, thanks for reading!


	5. Her Favorite Flower Part 1 - 17 & 16

**The Ties that Bind**

A series of related one-shots that range from Roy finding Ed and Al in Resembool and far, far beyond. Not chronological. EdWin, AlMei, Royai Parental!RoyEdAl Parental!RizaEdAl

* * *

**Her Favorite Flower**

_Older Brother 17, Younger Brother 16_

First Lieutenant Jean Havoc took a deep, appreciative breath and relished the strong scent of cleaning products, dingy city air, and the lingering sulfuric tang of three decade old radiators running at full capacity. It was good to be back at Eastern Command. The transfer had been long coming, almost a year since Mustang had declared his intentions to rebuild Ishval and General—now Furher—Grumman had given Mustang his old post as High Commander of the East. It had taken a lot of work, not the least which being the Colonel—now Brigadier General—getting his eyesight back and Jean his legs. He still couldn't believe Mustang had insisted he not be treated until Jean had. Especially after Breda had pulled him aside and explained that the philosopher's stones weren't endless fonts of usable energy. They could be used up and shatter at anytime and one never knew which transmutation would be the stone's last.

But Mustang had risked that for Jean. He'd risked being blind forever so Jean could walk again, and that was something he could never, ever repay. But that wouldn't stop him from spending the rest of his life trying.

Today was an interesting one for Jean. Not only was it his first full day back in Eastern Command, he'd also been charged with managing the upcoming East vs. North training exercise that would take place less than a month from now. Usually, it wouldn't happen until late March, but Furher Grumman had declared The Promised Day a national holiday, which meant training exercises had to be worked around it. Since spring was prime target weather for a Drachman assault on Briggs, that meant the training had to happen sooner rather than later. And since General Mustang had 'more important things' on his plate than arranging things with the north and Captain Hawkeye was at his beck and call, that left Jean to pick up the slack.

"Well, I suppose there are worse assignments," Jean said, plucking his cigarette from his mouth to blow out a cloud of smoke. Deciding what grounds to use, which simulations they would run, and what limitations each side would be faced with could be a lot of fun. Especially since this would give him a chance to maybe even things up after all these years of running the training drills up north where the Briggs soldiers had a seriously unfair advantage; that fortress was _cold_.

The door to Jean's office slammed open, and he jolted upright, a hand dropping to his sidearm on reflex until he registered the face and form of the woman before him. Lieutenant General Olivier Mira Armstrong stood in the doorway wearing her usual Briggs style uniform—fur trimmed coat and all—with an almost glowering frown on her full, pink lips. She stared Jean down, and protocol finally caught up with him as he fumbled his cigarette into his left hand so he could salute.

"General Armstrong, sir! This is an unexpected surprise."

Olivier sniffed derisively and said nothing as she strode into the room and shut the door strongly behind her. It wasn't a slam, but it was pretty close.

"I see you are hard at work Lieutenant."

"Yes, sir. General Mustang asked me to oversee the joint training exercise between Briggs and Eastern Command next month."

"I see." Olivier came to a stop only a few steps from Jean's desk. "Already slacking off on his duties, is he?"

"Eheh…" Jean wasn't sure how to respond to that, and he was a bit distracted by the burning in his arm besides. Olivier hadn't saluted him back yet, so he just had to keep standing there with his arm up until she did.

"Oh enough with that, Lieutenant," Olivier said, waving him off rather than saluting him back. "This isn't an official visit, and I don't expect to be kowtowed to the entire time I'm here. If you must, take it as an order that I am not to be saluted for the duration of my visit."

"Um…if that's what you want, sir." Jean lowered his arm and quickly snuffed his cigarette before putting both hands behind his back at parade rest. "Is there…something I can do for you General? Something I can get for you? If you're here to see General Mustang, I'm afraid he's in a meeting until—"

Olivier scoffed. "I'm not here for that moron. I only came to accompany Major Miles and his Ishvalan Monk—"

Major Miles has an Ishvalan monk?

"—and to confirm an interesting piece of information that has been conveyed to me via a third party."

Jean blinked. "Information, sir?"

"Yes." Olivier leaned forward, placing her hands flat on the desk and nearly shoving her face in his. Jean leaned back out of reflex.

"I am given to understand that you prefer older women with ample chests."

Jean went hot and cold in waves, his jaw dropping as he gaped at the woman. When he opened his mouth, he barely managed a surprised squeak. "Sir?"

"Well, Lieutenant?" Olivier demanded. "Is my information accurate?"

"I…" What was he even supposed to say to that?! "…suppose…?"

"Hm." Olivier straightened up and took a step back. "I see. Well then." She turned, her cape-like coat swishing behind her. "I expect you to pick me up at my hotel room no later than 19:00 hours, soldier. Dress appropriately for an evening out and don't bring me flowers unless they're my favorite." She stopped as she opened the door and half turned so she could glare at him with only one visible eye. "Am I understood, soldier?"

Jean snapped to attention on reflex and just barely stopped himself from saluting. "Yes, sir!"

"Very good then. Carry on, Lieutenant Havoc." She left, closing the door behind her.

Jean stared at it, still gaping, before the strength in his legs wavered and his knees gave out. He collapsed into his chair, still staring at the door. "What…what just happened?"

Because it seemed like Lieutenant General Olivier Mira Armstrong had just…asked him on a date? Well, more like demanded, but still. General Armstrong? On a date? With _Jean_?

"Aw, shit," Jean muttered, passing a hand over his face. "How the hell am I supposed to find out her favorite flower?"

With a sigh, he put away his plans for the military collaboration. He had more important research and planning to attend.

* * *

Kaliea: So I know this pairing is basically the definition of crack, but I couldn't help myself! I was rewatching the Briggs episodes recently and picked out how Olivier talked about Riza and Havoc and thought, "What if she likes them?" She knows that Riza is all Mustang's with no room for a third party, but Havoc? And then I wondered how such a thing would come about and...well...this was the result. I most definitely plan to write about their date later, though I'm not yet sure if I intend to make Jean/Olivier...Jevier?...a part of my personal "canon".

Anywho, thanks for reading!


	6. Her Favorite Flower Part 2 - 17 & 16

**The Ties that Bind**

A series of related one-shots that range from Roy finding Ed and Al in Resembool and far, far beyond. Not chronological. EdWin, AlMei, Royai Parental!RoyEdAl Parental!RizaEdAl

* * *

**Her Favorite Flower Part 2**

_Older Brother 17, Younger Brother 16_

Roy stepped rapped a quick knock against Havoc's office door but didn't pause for an invitation. As a Brigadier General and High Commander of the East, Roy outranked everyone currently stationed at Eastern Command (the Promised Day had taken a serious toll on the upper ranks, particularly considering the entire Senior Staff was either arrested or dead. Grumman had given out a lot of promotions, but there was only so much he could do all at once), so any knocking he did was a courtesy at best—though he did at least respect his men enough not to barge in without at least _some_ level of warning. Havoc didn't seem to notice either the knock or his entrance, however. The First Lieutenant was frantically scribbling away on a sheet of paper with dozens more crumpled and discarded on the floor around his desk, making it almost impossible for anyone to navigate the room without stepping on something.

"No, no, no," Havoc said around the mostly smoked cigarette dangling from his lips. A stack of ash flecked free to sprinkle his desk and uniform, but the Lieutenant didn't seem to notice. "That's too grand; too flashy. Needs to be something more subtle. With maybe a little sexy?"

Roy quirked an eyebrow. "Those must be some interesting combat drills you're thinking up, Havoc. Sexy? Really?"

Havoc started, his wild eyes shooting up as both hands slammed down on the paper he'd been writing on as if to hide it from view. "General! I…hello, sir."

"Hello, Havoc." Roy motioned toward the desk with his chin. "Having trouble with the assignments for the joint training exercise?"

"Ah…no, sir." Havoc was equal parts pale and flushed as his eyes darted every which direction without lighting on anything. "I actually haven't had much time to look into that today. Sorry."

_Not much time_? Roy frowned. "What are you talking about? I told you about it this morning and it's already well passed noon."

"Well…you see, sir…" More red blossomed over the white skin of Havoc's neck, forehead, and ears. "Lieutenant General Armstrong stopped in to see me at around 10:00, sir."

_General Armstrong_? Roy had known she was in East City, of course, he'd been at the train station to greet her when she rolled in, though she'd ignored him as usual. However much they'd cooperated back in Central, it was clear the general had no interest in furthering her association with Roy in the least. Still, he knew Olivier well enough to know she valued the chain of command, specifically the immediate command of one officer over another, so even though she technically outranked Roy (for now, but there were already talks of another promotion for Roy if he had visible success in Ishval by the end of the year), he knew she would never go behind his back and give one of his direct subordinates a counter or supplemental order to one Roy had already given. So what could possibly have Havoc so frantic he would waste an entire ream of paper with half-assed plans?

Well, he wasn't going to get any answers by speculating, now was he?

"Okay," Roy said at last. "And what, pray-tell, did the good General want?"

"She…she told me we were going on a date, sir."

"She _told_ you?" Roy's brow furrowed as the information didn't quite connect in his brain. "Don't you mean she aske—no, never mind. Of course she told you."

"Right, so I'm sure you can see why I've been a little preoccupied."

"No, of course." Roy waved a dismissive hand. "I'd call you a fool other wise. But, Havoc, is this something you want? I mean, this _is_ Olivier Armstrong we're talking about."

Havoc snorted. "Well it's certainly not something I've ever thought about before!" He paused a moment to calm his erratic breathing before seeming to finally remember the cigarette hanging precariously between his teeth.

"But…" He took one last draw before snuffing the butt in an overflowing ash tray. "I can't say I'm against the idea, General. I mean, forgetting the fact that she's hot as hell, I've always kind of had a thing for assertive women, you know? Plus, she's military, so I wouldn't have to explain if something came up suddenly. There is the bit about her outranking me, by a _lot_, but I'm secure enough that it doesn't bother me. Besides, with the fraternization laws, I wouldn't ever have to worry about being placed under her direct command and having things get _really_ complicated. So…Yeah. I guess I'm fine with it, sir. It's weird as shit, but I'm fine."

"Well…" Roy fumbled a bit, not sure what to say. At long last, he just shrugged. "If you're fine with it, then I'm certainly not going to say anything."

Havoc offered him a weak smile. "Thanks, General."

"So what exactly has you so frantic, then? I mean, sure, General Armstrong is enough woman to frazzle six men together, but knowing her, she already has a plan for your date, so what exactly are you planning?"

Havoc deflated—he almost looked about to burst into tears. "She told me not to bring her flowers—"

Roy quirked an eyebrow at that. All this fuss because Olivier didn't want flowers?

"—_unless_ they were her favorite."

Ah. So basically, Havoc had been ordered by the general to find and deliver her favorite flower upon pain of dismemberment without having actually been told what said flower was.

No wonder he was panicking.

A sudden memory poked at the back of Roy's mind and he straightened up. "Actually, Havoc, I might be able to help you out there."

Havoc sat up from where he'd rested his chin against the edge of his desk, nearly a watery mess of desperate tears. "Really?"

"Really." Roy grinned at his friend. "Just wait here a minute. I'll be right back."

Roy left Havoc's office beneath a hail of praise and prayers, stroking his chin as he crossed the hall to his own office. Now if only he could remember where he'd placed that flower seller's business card…

* * *

Kaliea: Poor Jean is so frazzled, and the date is still hours away! How will he possibly handle the raw womanhood that is Lieutenant Olivier Mira Armstrong in the flesh when just the idea of her sends him into near hysterics? I guess we'll find out together ^0^ Also, I'm taking suggestions for Olivier's favorite flower as I have yet to decide on it myself.

Anywho, thanks for reading!


	7. Her Favorite Flower Part 3 - 17 & 16

**The Ties that Bind**

A series of related one-shots that range from Roy finding Ed and Al in Resembool and far, far beyond. Not chronological. EdWin, AlMei, Royai Parental!RoyEdAl Parental!RizaEdAl

* * *

**Her Favorite Flower Part 3**

_Older Brother 17, Younger Brother 16_

The door rang at exactly 19:00, and Olivier wondered just how long Jean had been standing outside her door waiting for the second hand to tick down enough to strike the hour. The image of such a man—usually so self-assured and confident—fiddling with his tie, with the chain of his watch, repeatedly checking the time tugged her lips into a smug half-smile. How utterly endearing.

Olivier stood from the couch, an extravagant but vaguely uncomfortable thing that was the decorating centerpiece of the sitting room in the enormous suite she'd rented for the next six months. She had a lot of leave saved up from her time at Briggs, and with everything running so smoothly, she'd decided now was as good a time as any to spend it. After all, she couldn't be sure exactly how long it would take for Jean grow comfortable with the idea of marriage, and she didn't want him to feel rushed. The man was a hopeless romantic, or so she'd been told by her source in East City. It was best to court him first.

She glided across the room in a pair of two inch red heels with crisscrossing straps from toes to ankle. The full, sheer silk skirt of her illusion-style dress flared about her ankles and knees to nearly her hips where the opaque fabric of a much shorter underskirt that hit her just above the knee clung scandalously to her shapely legs and wide hips. A darker red bodice, opaque silk and embroidered with gold, left her shoulders bare and crossed over itself beneath her bust, accentuating her already ample assets in a way she was certain Jean would approve. More sheer silk filled in bust, covering her chest in a ruched fashion that kept her neckline technically appropriate but left little to the imagination. Considering the amount of work that went into making this dress not only fashionably acceptable, but amply enticing, Jean had better take a full minute at least to appreciate it or she would grind her needle-like heel through his foot and into the floor.

Opening the door, Olivier popped her hip and leaned against it just-so, framing herself neatly with the mahogany doorframe on all sides. Jean Havoc didn't disappoint. His jaw dropped, his face freshly shaved—which was slightly disappointing as she was certain the man would look delicious when scruffy—with his hair swept back in a neat but almost carefree way. Good; she detested stuffy men. His blue eyes roved her body from head to toe, lingering obviously on the length of her neck, which her swept up hair allowed in full. He swallowed hard as he traced the line of her throat all the way down—the skin unbroken by any necklace or jewels; something he seemed to appreciate—to linger on the hint of cleavage she hadn't needed to force in the slightest.

Olivier allowed him to peruse—that's what she'd dressed for, after all—and even took advantage of his distraction to take him in as well. He'd worn a full, three-piece suit with black slacks and jacked, but the waistcoat was charcoal gray over his crisp white shirt. Interestingly, he'd chosen a dark red tie that matched her dress almost exactly. Olivier's eyebrow went up, impressed despite herself.

Making her way further down, her eyes landed on his hands and widened just a fraction. Clutched tightly in two fists, the poor stems looking like they were about to snap in half, was a tasteful bouquet of dark red and rich purple gladiolus lilies. Colloquially known as the Sword Lily, the Gladiolus grew perennially in Central where the weather was warm throughout the spring and summer without reaching the oppressive eastern heat. They symbolized strength, faithfulness, and integrity; every trait a good soldier should possess. Even more than that, the colors Jean chose represented passion and nobility; two things Olivier knew she possessed in excess. The Gladiolus lily stood for everything Olivier expected herself to be as both a soldier and a woman, which is why they were her favorite flower.

Eyes blazing a heated trail back up Jean's chest to his face to lock her eyes with his, Olivier frowned. _How in the world did he find out_?

"There's been a change of plans, Lieutenant."

Jean blinked at that, obviously trying to catch up. "Sir?"

Olivier rolled her eyes. "Originally, I planned a night at the theater followed by a late dinner and dancing. But I've just decided such a thing is pointless, so the plan has now changed."

"O-oh…" Jean looked intensely crestfallen, but at the same time, almost as if he'd expected this. "Of course, General. I…well…here." He held out the gorgeous bouquet with a sad smile. "Even if we don't go out after all, I got these for you."

"Of course you did, Lieutenant," Olivier snapped. "Why else would they be here if not to be given to me?"

Jean's jaw worked wordlessly for half a second, undoubtedly groping for something at least mildly intelligent to say, but Olivier didn't give him the chance. Reaching out with the speed of a striking asp, her hand latched onto his deep red tie and yanked him—hard—down to her level. Their lips met with an almost painful clash, and Jean gave a muffled squawk, his arms flailing about as lily petals scattered about the hall until he seemed to finally realize what was going on. His arms banded tight around her waist and pulled her closer, almost lifting her off her feet as he ravaged her mouth with a delightful level of experience.

Olivier pulled away, their lips separating with a wet pop, and Jean tried to follow her down but she stepped back. He blinked dumbly at her, his hands still groping her waist around the stems he somehow still held. Olivier smirked and tugged his tie, leading him forward like a dog on a leash.

"Let me know when you get hungry, Lieutenant," Oliver said, "and I'll order room service for you."

Jean shook his head and cleared his throat, the haze in his blue eyes fading. Well, she'd just have to fix that, now wouldn't she?

"Just for me?" He asked, frowning a bit. "You're not hungry?"

"Oh, I am Lieutenant." Olivier took the abused flowers from his hands and stepped back into the sitting room to situate the blooms in an empty vase on the low, mahogany table. "In fact, you could even say I was starving."

"Okay?" Jean's brow furrowed adorably as he tried to work out her meaning. "Should we go ahead and order something now? I don't want you going hungry—"

The flowers happily situated in their gold vase, Olivier spun around and grasped the sides of Jean's waistcoat, pulling his body flush with hers.

"Jean," she ordered. "Shut up and kiss me."

Eyes wide, mouth gaping, expression stunned, it was a long moment before Jean saluted her—actually, literally_saluted_. "Yes ma'am!"

And kiss her, he did.

* * *

Kaliea: Soooo. Yep. That is a thing that I just did. Not exactly as I originally planned, but I definitely like it better XD Also, Olivier is surprisingly fun to write!

Thanks for reading!


	8. Every Promised Day - 1916

**The Ties that Bind**

A series of related one-shots that range from Roy finding Ed and Al in Resembool and far, far beyond. Not chronological. EdWin, AlMei, Royai Parental!RoyEdAl Parental!RizaEdAl

* * *

**Every Promised Day - 1916**

_Older Brother 17, Younger Brother 16_

Roy did not want to be here in Central; he'd only just gotten to East City two months ago and there was still plenty to do that did not involved taking a train across the eastern countryside to the exact place he'd nearly lost everything only a year before. He knew his aversion to the sights and sounds of Central was ridiculous. Not only did the city itself do nothing wrong, but he would need to get used to being there if he really planned to become Furher. After all, as much as he may want to, it's not like he could up and relocate the capital to East City. Logistically, that just made no sense.

Still, if there was one place in the world Roy didn't want to be right now, especially today of all days, it was Central. And judging by the awkward shuffle of the boys standing at attention beside him, Ed and Al felt the same way.

Furher Grumman stood on a platform at the very center of the courtyard Father had ravaged exactly one year ago and spoke into a microphone to a gathering of soldiers in their black dress uniforms arrayed in perfect groupings of fifty. The courtyard wasn't especially large, so there were only two-hundred soldiers present in the courtyard itself, but there was a gathering outside Central Command on the parade grounds of both soldiers and civilians who could watch Grumman's speech on the mirrored episcope being projected against an enormous white sheet.

Roy was proud to say the Elric brothers had been an integral factor in figuring out how to rig the projection with Ed handling most of the math and science aspect and Al handling all the alchemy. The giant projection was accompanied by proportionally sized speakers that had also been designed and produced by the Elrics, so everything Grumman said matched up with his projection in almost real-time. It was a pretty impressive leap in projection innovation, and Roy wouldn't be surprised if several alchemists and engineers were already trying to figure out how save a projection like this to replay at a later time. He'd mentioned that exact same thing to the boys as they explained their reasoning and processes to him as they worked, and Ed, at least, had that familiar fire in his eyes that came from being challenged.

One of the only good things about being where he was on this day, of all days, was that it was well passed noon; the moment when the Promised Day Reaction had actually taken place. He knew that was done so the projection could be seen more clearly in the dark as opposed to the washed out by the sun, but Roy—and the others involved in That Day—had appreciated the ability to reflect on what happened in quiet solitude instead of being displayed before the masses as he sat on his hotel bed with his fingers laced tightly together and his eyes wide, wide open as he stared at the clock and counted down the seconds to That Moment. Part of him was sure, so _sure_, that Truth would find him again and realize he'd circumvented his Payment.

He couldn't remember having ever been so scared for himself in his life. And it wasn't even for his life, but for his sight.

"Hey, Colonel," Ed hissed, startling Roy out of his revisiting of that moment of waiting for Truth to strike. "Fix your face, you idiot. You look like you're about to kill someone."

"Brother," came Al's predictably exasperated sigh. Unable to help himself, Roy smiled. It never ceased to amaze him that Al was back and safe and whole—entirely, perfectly _whole_. The two of them had spent much of the afternoon together as Al had been the one to come knocking at his hotel door to call him out for lunch. Roy hadn't been able to do more but grunt in affirmation as he continued staring at the clock, but Al must have noticed something in his voice because after a long, contemplative pause he said, "General? I'm coming in."

The door wasn't locked, so Al didn't need to use his alchemy to back up his statement and he strode into the room entirely unobstructed. Roy had torn his unblinking eyes from the clock to focus on Al—he rarely every looked at anything but the boy if he was within view because there was still a small, nagging part of him that was terrified Al would unravel back into a suit of armor the moment he looked away—and met a pair of concerned golden eyes. Al looked from Roy to the clock on the night stand still tick-tick-ticking away and the concern melted to understanding. Al pressed a hand to his chest, just over his beating heart and said, "Me too."

Holding out a hand to the boy, Roy offered a silent invitation. Al accepted the hand but didn't wait for Roy to guide the boy to sit beside him on the bed. In fact, Al had nearly pressed himself shoulder to knee against Roy's side and together they watched the clock for almost twenty minutes before Ed arrived, kicking open the door and complaining about being hungry and how Riza wouldn't let anyone one start eating until everyone was there. He paused mid rant as two sets of eyes, one brilliant gold and the other black as coal, focused on him. Like Al, Ed's eyes flicked to the clock before alighting with understanding.

"I'll call down and tell her to go ahead without us," Ed said before proceeding to do exactly that. He then took a seat on Al's other side and grasped his brother's hand with his flesh and bone right hard enough that both of their fingers bleached white. Ten minutes later, Riza arrived with a room-service tray that she sat on the desk to be ignored for another hour or more before taking a silent seat to Ed's left, sandwiching the boys between her and Roy.

How amazing was it that with every new addition, the terror Roy felt morphed more and more into a quiet, appreciative joy?

"—lives we lost." Grumman was winding down his prepared speech, now, which jolted Roy back to the present once again. "But amidst the heartache, always remember that heroes can never die as long as they live on, enshrined forever in our hearts."

No one cheered—it wasn't that kind of speech—but a deep, reverberating reverence settled over the crowd as, all together, the neatly alined rows of men and women bowed their heads in respect. Roy did the same, and from his periphery, he noticed Al and Ed follow suit. Even General Olivier Armstrong, standing to the Furher's left, bowed her head over the hands she'd crossed atop the pommel of her sword.

Then the moment passed, and it was done. The Promised Day was finally, blessedly, over. With eyes that could still see, Roy turned to look over his boys, both healthy, safe, and perfectly whole.

And the first time in his life, Roy sent up a prayer of thanks to Truth.

* * *

Kaliea: I'm old enough to remember 9/11/01 in vivid detail. I also remember 9/11/02. I remember watching people mourn and celebrate equally as they tried to make sense of an entirely insensible tragedy. But the thing I remember most is that my dad went to work that day at the Pentagon, the same as he'd done the year before, and I spent the whole day checking the clock, counting down the seconds until he came home. I knew it wasn't rational—the odds of something like that happening again on the exact same day a full year apart are pretty slim, especially since the entire country was on alert for it—but I couldn't help it. I'd spent hours on 9/11 wondering if my dad had been killed in the middle of what should have been his routine day as a Major in the Air Force, and that's not the sort of thing you just shake off. So here's my take on that here. I hope I captured that at least a little, because there really aren't enough words in the English language to explain how it feels.

Thanks for reading!


	9. His Kids - 18 & 17

**The Ties that Bind**

A series of related one-shots that range from Roy finding Ed and Al in Resembool and far, far beyond. Not chronological. EdWin, AlMei, Royai Parental!RoyEdAl Parental!RizaEdAl

* * *

**His Kids**

_Older Brother 18, Younger Brother 17_

Winry groaned herself awake and immediately knew where she was. Well, not _where_ exactly, but she knew the situation she was in. It was hard not to considering how many times it had happened to her, even if the circumstances did vary every now and then.

Taking a deep breath, she took stock of her body starting with wriggling her toes, then rolling her ankles, bending her knees. She couldn't turn onto her back with her arms bound as they were, so she had to settle for an awkward shimmy of her hip—the right one twinged a bit and she guessed a bruise was forming from being none too gently tossed on her side. Next she tested her fingers and wrists, though her elbows were out of the question unless she wanted to dislocate one of her shoulders, and _that_ sure wasn't happening.

Other than her hip, the only pains Winry found were her right shoulder—which probably hurt for the same reasons as her hip—and her head. It wasn't a foggy, cloudy pain like what happened with Barry the Chopper back when she was twelve, but a low, dull pulse that seemed to reach long fingers from the base of her skull to squeeze hard along her entire crown. Hardly pleasant, but at least she hadn't been drugged.

The last few traces of unconsciousness released her with reluctant fingers, and Winry resisted the urge to shake her head to clear it faster. That would only exacerbated her head injury.

_Head injury_.

Winry scowled. "I can't believe that jackass hit me in the head with his gun. He's lucky I didn't get a concussion."

She realized the moment she spoke that she should probably be more concerned than she was considering she'd just been kidnapped and was being held in near darkness in a room small enough that she had to curl in on herself, despite her arms being bound almost elbow to wrist, to fit without smacking her head against a wall. Only the dim glow of what seemed to be late afternoon sunlight filtered through the heavy, spottily torn curtains that hung over the room's single window. Well, it was more of a closet than a room, but at least it was empty of any cleaning supplies or storage. Instead, it was just Winry in the small space with a thin woolen blanket spread out on the concrete floor as if that alone was somehow enough to cushion her body against the frigid stone.

A twinge of pain shot through her arms when she tried to relieve the pressure on her shoulder and Winry groaned. Working herself carefully with bound ankles and arms, she managed to prop herself against the cold, cinderblock wall with a modicum of comfort. Or at least what passed as comfortable considering the circumstances.

Where was this place, anyway? Was she still in East City? She really hoped so; it would be much harder to find her if her kidnappers had managed to get her out of the city. And what did they want with her anyway? She'd never seen that bearded man even once in her life before he'd appeared behind her at the train station as she disembarked. She had come to East City at General Mustang's suggestion since he had made Ed and Al promise to check in once a month while they were abroad. Ed had protested, of course, but the General had stood firm as they glared at each other over the restaurant table they'd gathered at together following the annual Promised Day Memorial.

"Do you have any idea how many of Amestris's enemies would kill to get their hands on you boys?" General Mustang asked, his tone obviously rhetorical. "It would be irresponsible of me to let you go off on your own without having a way to know if you've run into trouble. The military's official stance is that we don't negotiate with terrorists, but if either of you got kidnapped—especially you, Ed—we wouldn't have much choice. We would have to do anything we could to get you back, or it would mean war."

Ed rolled his eyes. "You're exaggerating things, Colonel—"

The General's eye twitched. "It's General!"

"—the military isn't gonna get off their butts and go to war over someone like me. Especially not now that Furher Grumman is in charge."

"It's _because_ Grumman is in charge that we would go to war, Fullmetal! Or did you conveniently forget the part you and your brother played in making that change?" There was a moment's pause before General Mustang sighed and leaned forward in his chair, tenting his laced fingers over his nose. "You spent almost five years turning yourself into the Hero of the People, Ed. Did you really think that wouldn't have consequences?"

Ed was stunned, Winry could see it all over his face, as he sat down hard in his chair. Al reached across the table's corner to pat his brother once on the shoulder, though he almost looked as stunned as Ed.

"We're sorry, Sir," Al said, turning his attention to the General as he blinked repeatedly, obviously trying to reconcile what he'd just learned. "I guess we really didn't think about it like that."

"Well think about it," General Mustang said, though he sounded more tired than upset. "You'll both call me at least once a month?"

"Yeah," Ed said, his tone low and—Winry suspected—only grudging because he didn't want to admit the General was right. "We'll call."

And then, of course, Ed had to go and propose to her right before heading off to the West for who knew how long, and even though Winry supported his travels, it was pretty disappointing to find herself alone—and maybe a little abandoned—literally seconds after getting engaged. And somehow, just like he always seemed to do, General Mustang had sensed her mood when he'd called to check in on her like he always did.

"Why don't you come up to East City for the weekend?" The General had suggested seemingly out of the blue while the two had been talking shop about the volatile spring weather. "Ed's supposed to call on Friday, and since he's in Creta, it'll be collect, so I'm having it wired to the office."

Winry's eyebrows went up. "You're making the military pay for Ed and Al's out of country phone calls?"

There was an embarrassed pause before the General coughed. "Well, seeing as their wellbeing is in the country's best interest, I figure the Furher won't mind."

Winry giggled at that, trying her best to stifle it behind her fist. "Of course I'll come up. In fact, why don't I head over now? It's only two hours to East City, and I'm all caught up on my orders for the week. I would love to look at things for the wedding with Capt. Riza." Then, realilzing that may have been a bit presumptuous, Winry blushed and tucked her hair behind her ear. "That is, if you don't mind."

"Of course not. I'll make sure there's a room waiting for you at the Grand Marquis when you arrive."

So, almost two full days before her fiancé was even expected to call, Winry told Granny she where she was headed, packed up the bare necessities, and bought a last minute ticket for East City. Or would have done if General Mustang hadn't already called ahead and paid for one for her.

Winry frowned at that thought. The whole thing had been literally spur of the moment, so how in the world could anyone have known that Winry would come to East City when she did with enough warning to set an ambush for her as soon as she stepped off the train?

_Who **are** these people?_

As if on cue, a row of locks snapped along the length of the door, capturing Winry's glaring attention. The door opened stiffly with a loud squeal that made her flinch. Couldn't anyone be bothered to oil those hinges once in a while? Honestly!

"Ah," said a different bearded man from the one she'd seen before. That one had been young, probably not much older than Winry, with streaks of red in his otherwise chestnut hair. This man was almost entirely gray and had wrinkles around his eyes to match. "You are awake."

His accent was thick enough that it took Winry a moment to register what he'd said. She scowled up at him, unwilling to be cowed. Considering how often she'd been kidnapped in the past, Winry was well beyond fear in the face of yet another abduction—although did Scar really count? She'd suggested that one, after all. No, this time, she was _pissed_.

"Just who the hell do you think you are, sticking a gun to my back and demanding I go with you? What do you even want from me anyway? If it's money than you're flat out of luck, my Granny doesn't have the funds to fill a ransom order and no one else would bother."

Which wasn't entirely true. After almost seven years of milking Ed's automail repairs for as much as she could get, Winry could probably live pretty comfortably for the rest of her life as long as it wasn't especially extravagant living. As for no one else bothering with a ransom? Well, that was true, but definitely not for the reasons she'd implied.

Graybeard snorted as he looked down his long nose at her, his hands clasped behind his back. "You stupid child. You are thinking we want your money? Please. What good is Amestrian paper trash? Is not fit to wipe my ass."

Winry's nose wrinkled at the unwelcome image. "Charming." Shifting against the wall in an attempt to get more comfortable, Winry resituated her glare. "Well if you don't want money, then what _do_ you want? And you better not think you can sell me to some creepy pervert, because if _that's_ the case, I'll kick your ass myself!"

"Do not be insulting me, girl. You are only being as important as you are being valuable to _him_." The man grinned a nasty, almost sneer, his eyes glinting almost red in the waning sunlight. "You really should being more careful about announcing your importance to such a man. With the engagement being splashed across every newspaper, how could we not be taking advantage?"

Surprised, Winry's glare slipped to what was undoubtedly an unattractive gape. "Wait, you're using me to get to Ed? Seriously?"

Graybeard frowned. "Why would you being surprised? He is being the great state alchemist, yes? The Hero of the People?" He snorted. "Let us be seeing how important he is when it is you he gives his country for, yes?"

Winry blinked. "But…You do realize Ed is out of the country, right? He's in Creta right now, and even if he's right on the eastern border, it would take him at least two days to get back to East City. And yet, _he's_ the one you're worried about? _He's_ the one you're trying to threaten?" She sighed, dropping her head in disappointment. "Honestly. Do you even know how to get in contact with him? He's in Creta, you know, and it's not like he gave me his phone number."

"Is being no matter," Graybeard said, waving a hand. "We were being aware of you for some time, Miss Rockbell. We know of your phone call with the Butcher General; we know he will be having contact with the Fullmetal Alchemist in two day's time. We only need to be being patient."

"Are you saying you _tapped_ my _phone_?" Winry gaped. "How…how _rude_ can a person be? That is my private phone line used to convey private conversations! You have no place listening to them!"

Graybeard took half a step back, blinking wildly as he stared at Winry with an expression of utter bemusement. She clearly wasn't the demure, weepy damsel he'd been expecting. But then, why should she be? He'd made a stupid mistake by taking her so early and with so many witnesses. They may not have known she was being kidnapped at the time, but Winry didn't doubt that at least one person would be able to ID her abductor. The General had said he was sending First Lieutenant Ross and Captain Breda to meet her, after all. And those two were nothing if not dogged when it came to uncovering information. Captain Breda had been like that for as long as Winry had known him, but she suspected Lt. Ross's dedication to routing out the truth came from her own experience with being framed for Brigadier General Hughes's murder.

Either way, this man clearly had no idea what he'd done by kidnapping her like he did.

Or what Hell he'd invited down onto the heads of him and his accomplices.

And speaking of which, depending on how far out of town they were, whether or not Black Hayate had been able to pick up her trail, how long it would take to set up a perimeter, Winry figured said Hell would be descending right about—

An explosion rocked the cinderblock building to its roots, and Winry caught a brief glimpse of a thick, metal door flying across the outside room, propelled by a trail of smoke and smoldering flames. Winry grinned.

—_Now_.

"I don't know who you bastards think you are," came the General's low, threatening growl. "But it's pretty obvious to me that you're not from around here. And do you have any idea—" _Snap_ "—how tired I am—" _Snap_ "—of people like you—" _Snap_ "—coming into _my_ country—" _Snap_ "—_my_ city—" _Snap_ "—_my life_—" _Snap_ "—feeling like you have some sort of right to _mess with my kids_?"

Graybeard stared over his shoulder in pasty-faced horror as screams and roaring flames accompanied each successive snap as they drew closer and closer to the closet in which Winry was being held. She sighed at the theatrics, shaking her head a bit. Honestly, he was lucky she wasn't being held in the main room or he could have burned her with his erratic attacks.

Well, no, Winry amended. She knew without a doubt that he would never risk hurting her, which meant he must have known where she was from the beginning.

Ah, Capt. Riza must have scouted the scene from the rafters. Which meant she'd told him exactly where everyone was, including Winry herself. And considering the entire building seemed to be made of rebar enforced cinderblock—and since the General had very strict control over his flames—this tirade was being done as much for a lesson as it was a show. This was the General's way of telling the entire world that Winry Rockbell was absolutely, without a doubt, 100-percent off-limits as a hostage to anyone, and foreign relations be damned.

She should scold him for being so reckless, but honestly, Winry couldn't remember the last time she'd felt so taken care of by someone other than Ed or Al. It was almost like having a dad again.

_Messing with his kids, huh_? Winry ducked her head to hide her shy grin, just in case the General chose that exact moment to subdue Graybeard and come to her rescue.

And, naturally, he did.

"Winry!" The General tossed Graybeard aside and dropped to his knees in front of her, his black eyes roving her form, looking for any obvious injuries. "Are you okay? Are you hurt?"

"I'm okay," Winry said, trying her best to school her expression from the dumb grin that kept trying to emerge. "I wasn't awake for very long, so I wasn't really alone long enough to get worried, and they didn't hurt me."

Visible relief accompanied the sharp breath he blew out as the General clapped his hands together and reached for the ropes binding her ankles and wrists. "Thank Truth for that. I might have to kill someone if they had actually done something to you."

Winry took his offered hands and climbed gingerly to her feet with a wince or two; she was definitely stiff after an hour or so of lying unconscious like that. That small, vindictive part of her that had never really gone away after learning about Scar hoped that at least Graybeard—and Redbeard too, now that she thought about it—at a few nasty burns to take care of for a while.

"Did they say what they wanted?" The General asked, one hand moving to the small of her back as he escorted her through the warehouse. He used his body to shield most of the carnage from her, but Winry honestly didn't care one way or the other. He'd already said that no one was dead, so it's not like it would be anything too bad. Still, she let him take care of her because he obviously needed it.

She did, however, catch First Lieutenant Havoc's eye as the General escorted her out. The chain-smoking soldier nodded to her with a relieved smile. She nodded and smiled back. She even threw in a little wave that seemed to make him chuckle before getting back to work.

"I guess they wanted to use me to get to Ed?" She replied, though it was more of a question as she shook her head. "I didn't get a lot of details, and that man's accent was very thick, so I'm not sure I would have understood anyway, but I think they wanted to make him trade himself for me. Whether Ed was their end-goal or if they had something bigger in mind…" She shrugged, then winced as he right shoulder twinged. She rubbed it, trying to work out the knot that had formed there. "Sorry, but I really don't know."

"That's more than enough." He patted her left shoulder once. "It will give Breda, Ross, and Falman a good lead when they start the interrogation."

Winry hummed her understanding as they stepped outside, and she squinted against the setting sun that was glaring right at her. Capt. Riza appeared then, blocking the sun for a moment as she—like the General had done—eyed Winry up and down for anything out of place. Her brown eyes lingered on Winry's sore shoulder as Winry continued to rub it out, but she didn't say anything about it. Instead, her eyes snapped to General Mustang's and she saluted.

"All insurgents appear to be accounted for, Sir. Permission to authorize transport to Iron Down Prison?"

"Granted. But why don't you take a break and let the MPs take things from here?" The general smiled at Capt. Riza before shifting it to Winry. He squeezed Winry's shoulder once before releasing her into Capt. Riza's custody. "I'm sure Winry could do with a hearty dinner and a night in with a friend."

"Of course, sir." Capt. Riza held her salute for half-a-moment longer before her professional face melted to one of sincere concern as she swooped an arm around Winry's shoulders to shuffle her away. "Are you all right, Winry? They didn't do anything to you?"

"I'm fine, honest." Winry waved her hands placatingly and laughed. "Just a few bruises, but I promise they'll clear up in no time."

Capt. Riza's expression darkened and she shared a brief glance with the General before the light returned and she was smiling at Winry in that soft, almost maternal way she sometimes did. "Well, then. I'm sure a nice hot bath will help with that."

The General waved them off, obviously intending to stay behind and oversee the prisoner transportation personally. Realizing she likely wouldn't see him again until late the next day at best, Winry tugged Riza to a brief stop, ignoring the older woman's questioning glance.

"Hey, um, General?"

He turned at her voice, one eyebrow going up. "Yes, Winry?"

"Thank you," she said, looking down at her fiddling hands with a blush. "For saving me."

"Of course." The warmth in his voice made her look up, and Winry's blush deepened to see that at least a small spark of that warmth had made it to his eyes.

With a brief wave of her fingers, Winry let Capt. Riza draw her away to a waiting town car to head to the hotel for the night.

_My kids, he said_, Winry thought as the door closed, and she caught a glimpse of the General's back through the closed window. She rested her forehead against the cool class and smiled. She could definitely get used to that.

* * *

Kaliea: So this totally came about because I had this image pop into my head of Winry getting kidnapped again and just being so totally over it. And then, of course, Roy came bursting in throwing flames everywhere and telling the kidnappers to "stay away from his kids" and...well...this ^-^

Thanks for reading!


	10. Namesake - 24 & 23

**The Ties that Bind**

A series of related one-shots that range from Roy finding Ed and Al in Resembool and far, far beyond. Not chronological. EdWin, AlMei, Royai Parental!RoyEdAl Parental!RizaEdAl

* * *

**Namesake**

_Older Brother 24, Younger Brother 23_

Roy bounced his knee as he waited for news, his laced fingers resting beneath his nose as he stared straight ahead at the ficus on the other side of the waiting room. Riza wasn't with him—she'd joined Al in the delivery room to coach the way she'd done twice now for Winry—so it was just Roy for now since Ed, Winry, and the kids were still on their way up from Resembool. The should be arriving any minute, but according to the nurse who just stopped by, any minute could still be too late. Mei had only been laboring for about five hours, but the doctor had said it was time.

Thank Truth we left for the hospital when we did, Roy thought, raising his folded hands to press against his forehead. There was no way he could have handled another home-birth like Winry's first. Ed had been such a wreck, and Roy hadn't been much better. Even Riza, who Pinako asked to stand in as assistant midwife, had been uncharacteristically pale and and almost terrified. There was a moment before the door closed him and Ed away from the birthing room, as Riza took the seat by Winry's side and clutched the struggling girl's clammy hand, that Roy actually thought Riza might cry.

She never could stand seeing any of the kids in pain.

"Oi, Colonel!"

Roy jumped at Ed's sudden shout and spun to see the oldest Elric jogging down the hall with two-year-old Trisha braced against his shoulder.

"What's the news, old man?"

"Honestly, Ed!" Winry called from behind as she struggled to keep pace with her husband without resorting to dragging their four-year-old son across the floor. "You know better than to yell across the hospital. And stop running!"

"Yeah, yeah," Ed said, rolling his eyes even as he slowed to a pseudo power-walk. Roy stood as the young family drew closer and didn't hesitate to hold out his arms for little Trisha when she reached gleefully for him.

"Pop-pop!"

"Well hello there, beautiful girl!" Roy wriggled his fingers across Trisha's pudgy baby-belly and grinned as she writhed and giggled in his grip. "Have you been a good girl for mommy?"

"Good girl!" She chirped. "Good girl!"

Roy snuggled her to his chest and nuzzled her cheek with his nose. "That's my girl!"

"Oi!" Ed protested, hands on his hips. "What are you calling yours? That's mine, you know? I made it and everything!"

Winry arrived then and popped Ed on the shoulder with the back of her hand. "Don't call my daughter 'that'."

"Pop-pop!" Thomas grinned up at Roy, looking more and more like his father every time Roy saw him. It was almost alarming and would be more so if the pleasant toddler had inherited more of his personality from his father and less from his uncle. He raised his arms to Roy, his golden eyes shy despite his wide grin. "Me too?"

"Of course!" Roy shifted Trisha to one arm and scooped Thomas up with the other. He blew a raspberry against the boy's cheek that had Thomas squealing and giggling as he pushed against Roy's neck and cheek to get away.

"Pop-pop, no! I good boy! Good boy!"

"Of course, you are!" Roy declared, striking as proud a pose as he could with a child braced in each arm. "You're mine, after all!"

"Made that one too!"

Winry popped him again, her face a brilliant red. "Honestly, Ed. Do you have to be so arrogant all the time?"

"Fine," Ed conceded, jerking a thumb in Winry's direction. "She helped."

Still blushing, Winry dropped her face into her hands and groaned. Roy chuckled, bouncing each kid once to settle them better in his arms.

"Nice to know not much has changed in the three month you've been gone," Roy said, then blew another quick raspberry against each toddler's cheek. They squealed in succession, Trisha dissolving into giggles immediately after, and Roy continued. "Mostly, anyway. What are you feeding these kids to make them grow so much? Ed never grew this fast!"

"Who are you calling a pigmy date palm, you jerk?"

Roy's eyebrow shot up. "Pigmy date palm?"

"We're experimenting with trees," Winry said. "He's annoyed because they're all dwarfs, but they're easier to take care of and do better in Resembool's climate."

"I…see?"

"Excuse me, General?" The night nurse said, and Roy whipped around expectantly. "I'm sorry to interrupt, but I wanted to let you know that the delivery has ended and everything is fine. The infant is being washed and weighed, but you should be allowed in shortly."

Roy blew out a relieved breath before offering the pretty young woman a smile. "Thank you, Nurse Esther. I appreciate you letting us know."

Esther blushed prettily and ducked her head. "Oh, of course, General. It's my pleasure." She peeked up at the Elrics, a confused pucker forming between her brows. "Um, are these people with you as well?"

"Sorry," Winry said, stepping forward with her hand out. "My name is Winry Elric. That's my husband Ed. The General is his dad."

Ed and Roy sputtered at that, but they couldn't actively deny it with Thomas and Trisha right there. The kids were adamant that Roy was their "pop-pop," and Trisha especially grew extremely agitated at even a hint made to the contrary. Esther's eyes went wide as she looked between Ed and Roy, obviously trying to work out the math. Roy sighed and dropped his head to Thomas's shoulder, glancing at the nurse with one eye.

"He's adopted."

"But you still Pop-pop!" Trisha declared, glaring at him. Roy chuckled.

"Yes, Trisha, I'm still Pop-pop."

"So then…" Esther's bemused expression turned a bit green. "The other one too? The…the father?"

"Also adopted."

Esther looked like she might faint. "Oh…well. Um, I should get going, General. I have…rounds and…patients…"

She might as well have taken off at a frantic sprint with how quickly she disappeared down the hall. Roy sighed and nuzzled Thomas's neck with his scruff, making the boy giggle.

"Curses," he said, his tone more amused than annoyed. "Foiled again."

"Why would you be interested in a girl like that anyway. She's probably half your age."

Roy snorted. "She's only twenty-five, Fullmetal. Just how old do you think I am?"

Though considering she was only a year older than Winry…Roy cringed. Maybe it _was_ a good thing his grown 'kids' scared her off.

"Hey Dad, Ed, Winry!" Al's excited voice reverberated down the hall and the group turned to spot him waving at them. He was dressed head to foot in pale green hospital scrubs with a cloth face mask dangling from his neck. Roy wasn't surprised by that; Ed and Riza had both been scrubbed when they joined the delivery room when Trisha was born.

"Hey, Al!" Ed bounded over and wrapped an arm around his brother's neck in a strangling hug. "How's it feel to be a dad, huh? Feeling old?"

"Get off, Ed! Honestly." Al laughed as he disentangled himself from his brother to accept Winry's much more humane embrace.

"Congratulations, Al!" Winry pulled back with a beaming grin. "Is it a boy or girl?"

"A boy!" Al straightened up and puffed out his chest. "He looks just like Mei, too. He's so cute!"

Roy smiled. "Congratulations, Al."

Al's proud grin turned demure, almost shy the way it always did under Roy's praise. "Thanks, Dad." His proud posture returned as he motioned the group into the hospital room. "Come meet him before Mei is too tired and falls asleep."

Everyone shuffled inside to find Mei sitting up in bed with a blue bundle in her arms. She and Riza were talking softly, swapping grins, but both looked over as the rest of the family stepped in.

"Oh, I'm so glad you're all here!" Mei said, grinning at each in turn. "Brother Ling couldn't make it because he had a sudden diplomatic issue crop up, but he said he'll be here either tomorrow or the next." She propped the baby up so they could see his face amidst the swaddle. "Come see, come see! Isn't he perfect?"

They gathered around the bed to ooo and awe and coo over the baby, and Roy had to admit that the kid really was perfect. He'd gotten Al's nose and golden skin tone, but his patch of dark hair, the slope of his eyes, and petite, willowy build were all from Mei.

"He's beautiful, Mei!" Winry laced her fingers beneath her chin, her eyes shining. "What did you decide to name him?"

"Ah, well…" Al fidgeted, blushing a bit. "Mei and I decided to name him after Dad."

Ed wrinkled his nose. "You're calling him Hoenheim?"

"What?" Al blinked. "No, of course not! His name is Royce."

Roy sucked in a sharp breath, shocked despite himself. Al had been calling him 'dad' for almost ten years now, but he'd never expected something like _this_. Al choosing to name his child, his first born son, after a man like _him_?

"What?" Ed shrieked, startling everyone in the room, especially the kids. "You can't call your kid that!"

Roy wondered if he should be insulted.

Al stiffened, his jaw clenching. "Oh? And just why not, Ed?"

"You just, you can't okay? Pick something else!"

"No way! He's my son, so I can name him after whomever I want."

"Well you can't name him after the Colonel, okay? That's totally not happening!"

"He's a general now, you know? He has been for years! And I'll name him after the General if I want to!"

"No you won't!"

"Yes I will!"

Fortunately, Trisha and Thomas were used to their father's exuberant personality by now. Baby Royce—_Al named him after **me**_!—however, was not. The infant whimpered in his mother's arms, and Roy caught Winry's exasperated eye as she tried to get between the quarreling brothers, motioning for her to take Trisha as Riza had already accepted Thomas who had been struggling to reach his "Mee-mee" since Roy had walked in the room.

"You can't name you're kid after the bastard, Al, and that's final!"

"Oh yeah?" Al challenged, using his (only slightly) superior height to loom over his older brother. "Give me one good reason why not, Ed. Just one!"

"All right, boys," Roy said, ready to wade in and break them up. "That's—"

"Because Winry's pregnant!" Ed exploded, shocking the room to silence. There was a long, awkward pause before Al quirked an eyebrow and said, "So?"

"So," Ed stressed, his face turning an alarming shade of red as he looked around the room. "So, it's…it's my turn…"

"Your turn?" Al asked, brow furrowed. "For what?"

Winry giggled, bouncing Trisha to keep her from wriggling out of her arms and back into Roys. "It's his turn to pick the boy name."

Ed shot her a betrayed frown but she ignored him handily. "If it's a boy, Ed wanted to name him Roy."

"I-I did not! It was just a suggestion, okay? I'm still keeping my options open!"

"Oh," Al said, grinning as he reached for his son. "Well, if you aren't serious about it, then I guess there's no problem. Here, Dad." Al plopped his son trustingly into Roy's empty arms. "Say hello to your newest grandson, Royce Elric."

"Damn it, Al!"

The boys wound themselves up to another round, but Roy ignored them both as baby Royce scrunched up his face for a moment before opening his eyes. They were a beautiful, piercing gold.

"Hello, Royce." Roy smiled at the little miracle and traced his nose with one finger. "I'm your Pop-pop."

Baby Royce smiled.

* * *

Kaliea: Another lousy ending; sorry about that.

This is actually the story that started the idea of this collection in the first place. The image of Al wanting to name his son after Roy just popped into my head and then Ed was just so completely against it, only to reveal the shocking truth: he wanted to name his son Roy! Lol. I realize it may be a bit out of character, but this is almost a full ten years after the anime ended, and Roy and Ed's relationship has changed a lot since then. Plus, you know, fluff XD

Thanks for reading!


	11. The D-Word: Winry - 15 & 14

**The Ties that Bind**

A series of related one-shots that range from Roy finding Ed and Al in Resembool and far, far beyond. Not chronological. EdWin, AlMei, Royai Parental!RoyEdAl Parental!RizaEdAl

* * *

**The D-Word: Winry**

_Older Brother 15, Younger Brother 14_

Maes liked the morning. He liked the moments of reflection and clarity he had to himself as he sat at the table in the breakfast nook with the morning edition and a cup of strong coffee as warm sunlight poured into the large paned window. This morning was no different, though the sun hadn't yet risen higher than a blushing smudge between buildings.

Shifting his paper from the headlines to the Crime Report. Civilian law enforcement was usually outside his jurisdiction, but it was good to be up to date on the latest serial crimes just in case they bled over into military territory. The clatter of feet on the stairs made him look up and smile. He knew it wasn't Gracia, his wife detested mornings and couldn't be persuaded out of bed before 8:30 unless it was an emergency. Likewise, Elysia wouldn't be up until Gracia woke her up, so that only left one other person.

"Good morning, Winry," he said, folding the paper in half so he could see her pretty, smiling face. "You're up early."

"Oh, good morning, Mr. Hughes!" She giggled, unaccountably chipper for such an early hour, and practically danced into the kitchen still dressed in her comfortable flannel pajamas. "I hope I didn't bother you, but I couldn't bear to sleep any longer. Today's the day Ed and Al are taking me to Rush Valley!"

"You could never be a bother, Winry." He grinned watching her move around the kitchen preparing breakfast with practiced ease as she hummed the same, cheery song Gracia always did when she flittered about the kitchen. Winry looked so peaceful and at home, that Maes couldn't help but think of how much had changed since he first met her three years ago.

That had been a dark day, by anyone's standards. Maes had been neck-deep in a serial murder case that had been picked up by the MPs when the wife of a respected Central Colonel was discovered as one of the victims. He remembered the night Nina Tucker was murdered, and of course, Ed being Ed, had somehow found his way there—that boy had a knack for ending up in places he shouldn't—and of course, Roy being Roy, had managed to screw things up with the kid.

Ed had run off to brood in the rain, but both Roy and Maes had a job to do and couldn't go after him.

"I have Breda trailing him," Roy had said before Maes could ask. "He'll be fine."

"Of course, he will," Maes said, not sure if he believed it, but willing to hope for the best. Turned out Roy was right—smug bastard—and Ed was not only fine the next day—or as fine as one could expect—but more than willing to throw himself into Maes' murder investigation. Maes was hesitant at first, the boy had quit the State Alchemist program just that morning, but when he'd consulted Roy, his friend had just turned toward the window with that damnable blank look on his face, fingers laced together beneath his chin.

"Give him what he wants, Hughes. Ed's not the kind of kid who will be out for long. If he's not back in my office by morning demanding his watch back, I'd be shocked."

So, Maes gave Ed what he asked for and even walked him through the contents as they ate together (or more aptly, Maes stole from Ed's plate) in the mess hall that afternoon until Ed was pulled away to greet a visitor. Maes said his good-byes and went back to work and never expected the frantic call from Roy a few hours later demanding to know if he'd seen Ed recently, knew where he was, had any information at all because Ed and his friend Winry were missing—had been missing since Ed went out to meet his visitor at lunchtime—and with that crazy serial killer on the loose…

With Ed's life on the line, Maes had no choice but to solve the case _right now_. And he did.

In the aftermath, Roy shuffled Ed and Al away—taking them home, he'd said—which left poor, devastated, near-shattered Winry in Maes' care. He took the girl to his home where Gracia assisted her in taking a bath, brushing out her hair, dressing for bed. Maes made a simple, fool-proof dinner of cold sandwiches and warm soup for dinner, and Winry had picked at it with absolutely no interest.

Gracia was heartsick, Maes could see it on her face, and unable to stand it—or the equally heartsick look on Winry's face—Maes took action.

"Gracia, why don't you go check on Elysia." Maes raised a pointed eyebrow at his wife. "She's probably getting hungry, right?"

"Yes, of course." Gracia rose from the table where she'd been sitting side-by-side with Winry, an arm across the girl's blanket clad shoulders. "I must have lost track of the time."

She reached for Maes as she strode past, her fingers brushing his cheek as she gave him a look that was half-plea half-order. He took her hand, kissed her fingers, and offered a placating grin in return. Satisfied, Gracia left Maes and Winry alone.

Sitting across the table from her, Maes watched Winry swirl her spoon through her soup in slow, haphazard patterns. She said nothing, never looked up, didn't make a single sound outside of the scrape of metal on ceramic.

Maes sighed and pulled off his glasses, passing a hand over his tired eyes. "You and the Elric boys," he muttered, fondness coloring his tone almost amused. "Roy and I sure have our hands full, don't we?"

Winry's scraping spoon stilled, and Maes slipped his glasses back on to see her watching him with wary, dewy eyes. "I-I'm sorry for causing you so much trouble, Mr. Hughes. And…I never did thank you for rescuing me and Ed, did I?"

"I'm not worried about that, Winry." Maes reached across the table and set his hand atop hers still clutching the spoon. "I'm worried about you. Gracia said you were quiet during your bath, and it's fine if you just need time to think and process what happened, but if you need to talk, I promise I'll listen."

The watery sheen in Winry's eyes intensified. She fought valiantly against the tears, but they welled up anyway, shaking her tiny shoulders with suppressed sobs until they spilled from her eyes and down her face. Her breath hitched, and Winry dropped her spoon to cover her face with both hands as she did her best to muffle her terrified wails. Maes didn't hesitate to slip around the table and into the chair beside her, drawing her into a hug so she could sob against his black pajama shirt.

"I was so scared!" Winry said, clutching his shirt with both hands. "I thought, I thought I was going to die, and then Ed came, and I knew _he_ would die, and he _cried_—I've _never_ seen Ed cry—and that scared me more than anything because I thought we were dead already and…and…"

The last of her cohesiveness ran out, replaced by hacking sobs, and through it all, Maes held her tightly to his chest, stroked her hair and back, whispered that she was safe now, that he would never let anything happen to her. Eventually, drained completely dry, she fell asleep in his arms and Maes had to shift her carefully into his arms and carry her to the guest room where Gracia had already prepared her a bed.

"The poor dear," Gracia whispered as Maes took the warm washcloth she offered to carefully clean Winry's salty, splotchy face. Her breath hitched slightly, but she stayed asleep. "I can't imagine going through what she did, and at such a young age."

"Yeah," Maes said, pulling the warm duvet up to Winry's chin and brushed a strand of blonde hair away from her face. "But she's a warrior, this one. She'll bounce back and be all the stronger for it."

Even Maes was surprised by how right he was. Winry had woken up late the next morning shy and grateful, almost skittish. She sat at the table with her hands folded on her lap and her head down as Gracia made breakfast and Maes gave Elysia her first bottle of the day, but as Maes and Gracia engaged the girl in talk—asking her about her likes, her hobbies, her home in Resembool—Winry unfolded like a morning glory; turning into a brilliant, vivacious girl with a wide grin and insatiable need for knowledge. Especially about mechanics.

Winry stayed at the Hughes household for almost a week at Maes' insistence. After all, Ed and Al would be on a mission in the East for about that long and didn't she want to see them one more time before heading back to Resembool? Winry had agreed, and Maes took the week off to spend with her and his family. After closing such a brutal murder case, and with plenty of leave racked up, no one could say anything against it even if they wanted to.

Together, the four of them toured Central, and Maes delighted in spoiling Winry with anything and everything that caught her fancy. She tried to protest, and later to disguise her interest, but Maes wasn't Deputy Director of Investigations for nothing. She silently thrilled at his treatment of her, delighted in Gracia's encouraging attention, basked in Elysia's unhesitating acceptance (though the infant was barely three months old, at that point). Not even a full day after meeting the beautiful, intelligent, vivacious girl, Maes couldn't help but consider her family.

"Now, you come back and visit us any time, you hear?" Maes had said on Winry's last day in Central as he stood with her on the train platform. "And I mean it, Winry. Rain or shine, call or no call, middle of the day or middle of the night, you are always welcome in our home."

Touched, Winry had smiled at him and tentatively reached out a hand. "Thank you, Mr. Hughes. And please thank Miss Gracia for me too. I…I had a wonderful time staying with you."

Choked up, Maes grasped Winry's hand and pulled her in for a long, warm embrace. "Don't be a stranger, okay?"

Winry nodded against his chest. "I won't."

After she left, Maes threw himself into figuring out everything there was to know about her. He already knew Winry came from Ed and Al's hometown—Resembool in the southeast—but that was nowhere near enough to satisfy him. He'd already known that Winry was an orphan—Ed had said as much when talking about Winry early on in their acquaintance—but a little digging revealed how she was orphaned, and how early.

"Her parents left for Ishval when she was three?" Maes sat back in his chair at work and pushed up his glasses to pinch the bridge of his nose. They had never come back, either. According to the report filed by Major Kimblee—psychopath that he was—her parents were murdered by an Ishvalan dissident only a few months before the war ended and everyone was sent home. In all those years they spent on the front lines, Winry had never once seen them and, according to Winry's grandmother Pinako—who of course Maes had called the very night Winry first landed in his custody—if any letters had been sent home, they were lost in transit.

_She's practically been an orphan for the last nine years_…

Same as Ed and Al, now that he thought about it.

From that moment forward, Maes had decided to give Winry as strong a sense of family normalcy as he could manage at a distance, and Gracia had wholeheartedly agreed. They called her once a week to talk, sent presents for her birthday and Wintertide, Summer's Eve, the Harvest Festival and any other holiday Maes could makeup. He insisted Winry come to Central when if she ever needed rare parts for her automail shop and he, Gracia, and Elysia visited Resembool every year for their annual Sheep Festival in spring. It was a long trip, but the absolute delight on Winry's face when they appeared that first time had been more than worth it.

"You okay, Mr. Hughes?" Winry asked as she set a plate on the table in front of him. The steaming omelet smelled amazing, even if it wasn't quite as professional looking as the ones Gracia made. Still, it was more than enough to make him tear up, and of course, Maes had to disguise just how affected he was but gushing over it.

"Oh, wow, Winry! This looks amazing! As expected, of course. You did learn from my wife, after all!"

Winry giggled as Maes dug in and wow was it good! Grinning delightedly, Maes chomped away on his breakfast while Winry busied herself making more food for the rest of the family. He listened with rapt attention as she talked about how excited she was to finally visit Rush Valley, about everything she intended to do while she was there, all the skills and techniques she hoped to learn and perfect.

"That sounds splendid, Winry," Maes said once they'd finished eating. He stood to wash the dishes and insisted Winry stay seated when she tried to help. She'd done the cooking, after all; it was only fair that he did the cleaning. "Just make sure you check in every now and then, all right? And if any boy so much as _looks_ in your direction…" He trailed off with a growl, wringing the dishtowel in his hands like the neck of whatever pervert kid would surely fall for his beautiful little girl.

"Relax, Daddy," Winry said around a bite of omelet. "Boys are the last thing on my mind, right now. I—"

She froze, her hand almost touching the glass of orange juice she'd been reaching for. Maes did his best to remember how to breathe and told himself it didn't matter what she said, if she took it back, if she didn't mean it, if she promised to never say it again…

After a long, tense silence, Winry peeked at him from the corner of her eyes, and Maes did his best to act normal as he tossed her an encouraging grin.

"And you?"

Winry's lips turned up in a shy smile as her hand closed around her glass of juice and pulled it closer. "I'm much more excited about the engineers I'll meet down there. Can you even imagine how much they must know about automail? Ahhh, I can't _wait_!"

The rest of the morning was more of the same with Gracia stumbling in at exactly 8:30 to drop a kiss on Winry's head with a bleary good morning before offering Maes the same, except his kiss was, naturally, on the mouth. Elysia was more awake than her mother and gleefully scrambled onto her Sissy's lap to eat the omelet Winry had made for her. Much of Winry's earlier excited rambling was repeated, but Maes didn't mind hearing it again in the least.

Once everyone had eaten and dressed for the day, Maes knew he'd put off work for as long as he could.

"I'll see you tonight, hon," Maes said as they bid farewell at the door. "And Winry, you better be safe, understand?"

"Of course!" Winry grinned. "I'll make sure to call as soon as the boys and I arrive."

"Sounds good." Kneeling down to Elysia's level, Maes made exaggerated kissing sounds. "Time for bye-bye! Daddy's gotta go to work, now!"

"Daddy," Elysia said, her hands clasped adorably. "Come early, today, okay?"

"Hm, well, I can try," he said, same as almost every day. "But Daddy has a bunch of important work that needs to be done." Reaching out, he massaged his daughter's cheeks with both hands. "But I promise I'll do it as fast as possible!"

Elysia giggled at his attention, her hands to her cheeks the second he let go. Smiling at her, Maes stood as Gracia reminded him it was time to head out and turned to Winry.

"Let us know if you need anything while you're down south, okay? And tell the boys I said good-bye."

"I will, and…" She glanced at Gracia and Elysia for a brief moment, her cheeks turning a darker and darker pink before looking back at Maes. "H-have a good day at work, Dad."

Surprise crossed Gracia's face before it resolved into a gentle, knowing smile. Unable to help himself, Hughes pulled Winry into his arms for a suffocating hug.

"You take care of yourself, baby girl. Okay?"

Winry nodded against his chest. "Okay."

Maes held himself together admirably as he made his way downstairs, but the moment he was alone in his car, he broke.

"She called me Daddy!" Maes squealed and pounded the steering wheel before a sudden thought occurred and he shot upright. "I have to tell Roy about this right away!"

His resolve set, Maes drove to work with giddy thoughts of annoying his best friend with tales of his darling girls. All three of them.

* * *

Kaliea: So here we have one of the first major deviations from Brotherhood cannon by mixing in both the original anime and my personal headcannon. Hopefully, it's not too much of a stretch because if the original anime had continued along the Brotherhood timeline, I honestly can't imagine that Winry wouldn't have been strongarmed into the Hughes family - willingly, of course. Plus, I'm a huge sucker for daddy/daughter fluff :D

Thanks for reading!


	12. Every Promised Day - 1917

**The Ties that Bind**

A series of related one-shots that range from Roy finding Ed and Al in Resembool and far, far beyond. Not chronological. EdWin, AlMei, Royai Parental!RoyEdAl Parental!RizaEdAl

* * *

**Every Promised Day – 1917**

Older Brother 18, Younger Brother 17

Roy almost dropped his fork as he stared between Ed and Al in silent horror. The boys stared back, though the silence went on for so long that first Al then Ed and even Winry—who wasn't being stared at by Roy because she hadn't just said something so phenomenally _stupid_—started to squirm.

"I'm sorry," Roy managed after ordering himself to get it together. "You want to go _where_?"

"Well," Al said, shifting nervously with his hands clasped in his lap. He hadn't touched his food at all since he and Ed broke the news. "Mei Cheng invited me to visit Xing to study alkahestry, I want to see if it's possible to bridge the gap between alchemy and alkahestry or at least to create a more perfect form of alchemy that can't be so easily corrupted in the future. Ling Yao agreed that I could come and even said I could stay at the palace. And since he's the crowned prince now, he was able to expedite my visa for an extended stay."

"No," Roy said, waving a dismissive hand. "I got that, and I think it's a great idea, though we'll be talking about traveling requirements later. What I _don't_ understand is what your _brother_ said."

Roy leaned back in his chair and crossed his arms with a prompting glare. "Care to repeat yourself, Edward?"

"What's the point?" Ed grumbled, pushing his peas and mashed potatoes around his plate until they were thoroughly mixed. "You obviously heard me."

"Creta!" Roy said, almost before Ed had finished. "You want to travel to Creta! Of all places!"

Reaching up, Roy massaged his forehead with one hand where a headache had begun to form. "You _do_ realize we were at war with Creta until just recently?"

"To be fair," Al replied, raising a finger to divert Roy's attention, "we were at war with pretty much _everyone_ until just recently."

"Be that as it may," Roy conceded, because it's not like he could refute that. Especially since Amestris was still at war with Drachma to the north and in a _very_ tentative ceasefire with Aerugo to the south. "You had to choose the one country where a vengeance-mad general with a track record for attempted genocide not only knows who you are but would gladly have you arrested as a war criminal."

"Don't be stupid, Colonel—"

"You _know_ he's a general now, brother."

"—what would Ashleigh have against me? All that insanity was because his soul got corrupted when he swallowed that philosopher's stone. It all worked out in the end."

"Considering he left Table City without a word to immediately return to Creta, we have no idea _what_ he might have in store for you, Fullmetal—"

"I'm retired, dammit!"

"—and besides, life isn't an adventure novel; you can't just go around assuming people will conform to your way of thinking just because you beat some sense into them one time almost three years ago."

Roy knew he wouldn't win this argument; Ed and Al had told him their plans as a courtesy, not because they wanted his permission. But knowing the boys were adults now—and Truth knows they had survived far more than most men three times their age—didn't stop Roy's heart from clenching with terror at the thought of these boys—_his boys_—being in the midst of enemy territory on their own. Especially Ed, who was at a severe disadvantage without his alchemy.

"Look," Roy said, placing his palm flat against the table with a thump to recapture their attention. "I get that this is important to you, Ed, and the last thing I want is to keep you locked up in a cage—" Roy forgave himself for such a blatant lie; he would gladly lock both boys up in a maximum-security facility if he actually thought it would do any good, "—but you can't just run off half-cocked, and you certainly can't go _alone_."

"And why the hell not? You think I can't take care of myself or something? Because Al and I spent four years wandering every inch of Amestris, and we never ran into anything we couldn't handle."

Now was not the best time to tell Ed that Roy had the boys followed religiously during those first three years, and even when he started to loosen the leash, Ed and Al had a stricter check-in policy than anyone else in the Amestrian military—including the Fuhrer. But, oh, was it ever so _very_ tempting.

"Regardless," Roy said instead, "if you boys want to leave the country for roads unknown, you'll be required to check in at least once a month, and I want you to take at another person with you. Preferably someone military."

"You can't be serious!" Ed jumped to his feet and slammed both palms onto the table, making Winry jump and drawing attention from the other diners in the café. He scowled at Roy, completely oblivious to the scene he'd created. "We're not kids, and we're not military anymore either; you can't order me to do anything."

Roy wanted to scream in frustration, but he had to be the adult here since Ed clearly wasn't acting his age. It was like he'd devolved back to his rebellious teenage years, and Roy could really do without rehashing those first three years of knowing the hot-tempered shrimp.

"Edward," Roy said, lacing his fingers atop the table as he leaned forward, almost glaring. It was the same pose he had always used when Ed acted particularly unruly, and the boy had come to recognize it—at least on a subconscious level—as a sign that what Roy was about to say was entirely serious and not to be ignored.

"Do you have any idea how many of Amestris's enemies would kill to get their hands on you boys?" Roy looked longest at Ed, but he made sure Al got the full brunt of his authoritative stare as well. "It would be irresponsible of me to let you go off on your own without having a way to know if you've run into trouble. The military's official stance is that we don't negotiate with terrorists, but if either of you got kidnapped—especially you, Ed—we wouldn't have much choice. We would have to do anything we could to get you back, or it would mean war."

Ed rolled his eyes. "You're exaggerating things, Colonel—"

Roy's eye twitched. "It's General!"

"—the military isn't gonna get off their butts and go to war over someone like me. Especially not now that Fuhrer Grumman is in charge."

"It's because Grumman is in charge that we would go to war, Fullmetal! Or did you conveniently forget the part you and your brother played in making that change?" There was a moment's pause before Roy sighed and leaned forward in his chair, tenting his laced fingers over his nose. "You spent almost five years turning yourself into the Hero of the People, Ed. Did you really think that wouldn't have consequences?"

Ed was stunned, Roy could see it all over his face, as he sat down hard in his chair. Al reached across the table's corner to pat his brother once on the shoulder, though he almost looked as stunned as Ed.

"We're sorry, Sir," Al said, turning his attention to Roy as he blinked repeatedly, obviously trying to reconcile what he'd just learned. "I guess we really didn't think about it like that."

"Well think about it," Roy said, exhaustion setting in now that he finally seemed to be getting through to the boys. "You'll both call me at least once a month?"

"Yeah." Ed's tone was low and grudging, but Roy knew he meant it when he said, "We'll call."

"Good," Roy returned—he'd save the travel-buddy talk for a later time. For now, he was just glad to have Ed's promise to call.

Deciding to reset their meal—it was unnerving to have so many eyes on their table as the other diners were clearly still captivated by watching the drama unfold—Roy picked up his knife and fork to resume eating. He smiled at Winry as he cut his chicken into bites and asked, "Well, Winry, what about you? Planning to head off to Drachma to learn the secrets of their self-repairing automail?"

Winry perked up, her previously wary gaze now alight with sparks of interest. "Do they really have such a thing?"

Roy let himself laugh. Later in the day, he, Ed, and Al would be required to stand at the front East City's military HQ where Roy would deliver his speech to commemorate the second anniversary of the Promised Day, and later still he would have to sit down with Riza to make travel plans for the boys, so he would know without a doubt that every 't' was crossed and 'i' dotted when it came to their health and safety. But for now, Roy chose to enjoy the moment. They all deserved it.

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Kaliea: Ugh, why do my endings always suck so much? Also, I hope this story was interesting for you guys because some of the information isn't new at all, having been lifted almost verbatim from "His Kids," but this moment will be important to future stories (at least the ones that take place at a later date than this one), so I figured I could get away with it ^-^;

Anywho, thanks as always for reading, and don't forget to review!


	13. Jealousy - 12 & 11

**The Ties that Bind**

A series of related one-shots that range from Roy finding Ed and Al in Resembool and far, far beyond. Not chronological. EdWin, AlMei, Royai Parental!RoyEdAl Parental!RizaEdAl

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**Jealousy**

Older Brother 12, Younger Brother 11

Usually, when not on a quest or assignment, Edward and Alphonse would hole themselves up in the East City library with a pile of alchemy books, and today had started out no different. They were looking for anything and everything they could find that might possibly lead them to the legendary philosopher's stone, but so far, it was the same nothingness they'd come across in the past. Well, almost. Alphonse had found a curious alchemy circle in a book so ancient Ed was surprised it didn't crumble into dust the moment his brother had pulled it off the shelf.

It was a circle Edward didn't recognize, so he enthusiastically threw himself into pulling it apart and interpreting the individual components that made up the whole. Unfortunately, all progress came to a halt when Ed hit a snag over a particular piece of the circle. Normally, he would have by-passed the unknown portion then pieced together the purpose through context, but the part he couldn't figure out was rather sizable. It also had the distinct characteristics of fire alchemy, which was why Al enthusiastically suggested that they take it to Mustang to see what he could make of it.

"No way," Edward had said with a tone of finality. "There's no way I'm giving that stupid Colonel something _else_ to hang over my head. It is _not_ going to happen."

"Oh brother, be reasonable," Al soothed. "The Colonel doesn't hold things over your head." He paused for a moment, then amended his statement. "Well, unless he's actually _holding_ it over your head. But he only does that because you get so worked up over your height."

"Who are you calling a kid so tiny he could use a pulled thread as a jump-rope?!" Ed demanded, and Alphonse sighed.

"All I'm saying is that the Colonel knows flame alchemy. It's silly to keep sitting here trying to figure it out on our own when we could just ask him."

"Then you ask him!" Ed grabbed another book and pulled it close. "I'm not going."

"Fine," Al said, and Edward could actually hear the frown in his voice. "I will."

"Fine."

"Fine!"

"_Fine_!"

Al actually slammed the door on his way out, but Ed pretended it didn't bother him as he turned back to his book. It wasn't like Al would be gone for long anyway. That bastard Colonel never had time for anyone but himself and his stupid girlfriends. He'd send Al back disappointed and frustrated and angry, and then Ed would have to console his little brother because that Colonel was such a total jerk! He only had about fifteen minutes to prepare himself for a sulky Al. Best not waste it.

Edward sat at that chair, pretending to read, for over an hour before he finally admitted to himself that his original hypothesis was apparently flawed. Not that Mustang was giving Al the time of day or anything. Because that's totally not something he would do! Which meant Al was either lost somewhere (not entirely unlikely, the Elric brothers were still adapting to life in East City) or he went back to their bunk to sulk instead of returning to the library. But, whatever the case, Edward figured it was his big-brotherly duty to put that stupid Colonel in his place for daring to hurt his kid brother's feelings. Besides, Ed was bored anyway.

Hundreds of insults ran through Ed's mind as he left the library and made his way to East City Headquarters. He had a few fallbacks that he could use (they were _classics_!), but one could only accuse someone of being a morally-bankrupt-Colonel-with-a-God-complex so many times before it started to lose it's 'umph'. It was best to save that one for the real '_zam_!' moments. He hadn't called him a megalomaniac in a few weeks though. That always got good results.

As usual, Ed didn't bother knocking when he got to Mustang's office. However, in deference to Hawkeye (who on one completely unforgettable occasion made him aware of her distaste for slamming doors and unexpected arrivals at freaking _gunpoint_), he was rather civil in his mode of entering. It was only the front office anyway. Banging in lacked the desired affect when Mustang wasn't there to witness it.

Hawkeye was the only one in the office when Edward entered, but he didn't mind. He waved at her as she looked up.

"Good afternoon, Edward," Hawkeye said, pausing in her paperwork to send him a pleasant smile. "This is unexpected. You boys almost never come here unless you have a report to deliver."

"So, I guess that means Al was here already," Ed said with a nod. At least he'd been right about that much. He crossed the room to Mustang's door with every intention of throwing it open. "When did he leave? Did he say anything about where he was going?"

"Leave?" Hawkeye said, her head tilting slightly in confusion. "He hasn't yet. He and the Colonel have been talking in there for over an hour."

Ed froze, his hand still on the doorknob. They were in there? Together? _Talking_?

"But . . ." Ed turned slowly, utterly bewildered. "Why?"

Hawkeye shrugged. "Al had an alchemy question, and for once the Colonel was ahead in his paperwork. I didn't see any problem with giving him a short break." She glanced at the clock and frowned. "I should probably intervene soon. The Colonel has a meeting in twenty minutes."

None of what Hawkeye said filtered into Edward's brain. He was still stuck on the part about Mustang actually giving a damn. That _never_ happened. _Ever_.

"Mustang is actually talking to Al about alchemy?" Edward clarified, and Hawkeye frowned.

"Are you alright, Ed?" She pushed away from the desk and crossed the room to kneel next to him. "You look a pit pale. Are you sick?"

She pressed the inside of her wrist against his forehead, but Edward gently pushed her arm aside.

"Why would Mustang be talking to Al about alchemy?" The room was starting to get a bit blurry, and Edward wondered if the shock was making him lose consciousness. "Hell, why would he talk to Al about _anything_? _I'm_ the one Mustang talks to, and that's only because he _has_ to! He never talks to me unless it's because of his stupid job or to make fun of me or something! So why would he be talking to _Al_?"

"Edward—" Hawkeye began only to stop, wide-eyed, when something wet fell from the ceiling and landed on Ed's red coat. Followed by another something wet. And another.

"Ed." Hawkeye reached out and tilted his chin up (when had he looked down?) and brushed her hand against his cheek. It came away wet.

Edward felt his face heat up like a furnace, and he stumbled back a few steps. He scrubbed his face with his sleeves and tried to pretend like he hadn't just been _crying_ because, come on, he wasn't a baby! And what was there to cry about anyway? It wasn't like he was sad or anything. They were probably tears of anger or frustration or something. Those were manly emotions, right? It was totally okay to cry if you're mad.

Right?

The door to Mustang's office opened, and Edward scrambled to hide. Al stepped out laughing, and Ed pretended that his heart wasn't constricting when he saw Mustang reach out and rest a hand on his brother's metal arm. Why would he do that? He never did stuff like that with Ed!

"Let me know once you figure it out," Mustang was saying. "I definitely want to see what you boys make of it."

"Oh, we definitely will!" Al assured the Colonel. "And brother will be really excited once I show him what you did! We'll be able to figure it out in no time!"

Mustang chuckled. "I'm sure you will."

Hawkeye cleared her throat, and Mustang sighed.

"Right, right. Meeting," he said. "I didn't forget."

Hawkeye gave Mustang a _Look_. It was the same kind of look Ed remembered his mother giving Hoenheim a few times when either he or Al needed some . . . fatherly intervention. Although why Hawkeye would be giving _Mustang_ a look like that was anyone's guess. Mustang was apparently confused as well because he just raised his eyebrow in return. Hawkeye's head tilted in Edward's direction, and once again, Ed's face heated up.

"I'm going to find Al an umbrella," Hawkeye said as she took Al by the arm. "The forecast called for rain this afternoon, and we wouldn't want him to rust."

"Oh, you don't have to worry about that, Lieutenant," Al assured her. "I—brother? What are you doing here?"

"Later, Alphonse," Hawkeye said, her voice kind but firm as she led him to the door. "Let's go find that umbrella."

"But—"

"Alphonse," she said sternly, and Al reluctantly followed her out of the room. Edward looked determinedly in any direction that Mustang was not in.

"Problem, Fullmetal?" Mustang asked, and Ed flinched. His voice was flat and formal and distant. Nothing at all like when he'd been talking to Al.

"Bet you wish it was Al, huh?" Ed said so softly and abruptly that he could barely recognize the words himself. Mustang frowned.

"What are you talking about?"

"Fullmetal," Ed grumbled. "I bet you wish it was Al."

Mustang arched his eyebrow again. "And why would you say that?"

"Cause he's polite and quiet and listens to orders." Ed's lip trembled. He bit down on it and waited a moment until he was sure it was under control.

"Fullmetal, I have no idea where this is coming—"

"You _talk_ to him."

Mustang was taken aback. "And?"

"You _never_ talk to me."

"So . . .what? This is a mime routine?"

Ed glared. "Don't mock me! I'm being serious!"

"Well, while we're being serious, could you speak up a little? It's hard to hear you down there."

That did it. Ed had had enough. All that stupid Colonel ever did was talk _down_ to him and _belittle_ him like Ed wasn't worth the effort it took to be a decent human being instead of a stupid bastard. All of his emotions, held back since that awful day almost two years ago, burst free at once. Every insult, every taunt, every barked order that was meant to hurt and demean and humiliate came flooding back.

Ed opened his mouth to scream obscenities at the smug bastard in front of him.

He broke into tears instead.

XXXXXXXX

Roy had _no_ idea what to do. Fullmetal had just started crying. Out of freaking _nowhere_! And seriously, _what the hell_?

"Fullmetal, hey, what—?" Roy floundered and fretted, having absolutely no idea how to soothe a sobbing child. "Ed, come on . . ."

Edward's breathing hitched, and he looked up at the Colonel in surprise. He was still crying, but at least he wasn't sobbing anymore. Roy took that as a good sign and hesitantly moved closer, going down on one knee to see the boy eye to eye. Ed's eyes were red and raw from crying and rubbing, and Roy felt something sharp and heavy in his chest when Ed looked away and scrubbed at his face with the back of his hand. His bottom lip was trembling and his breathing was short and erratic, and his tears wouldn't stop falling.

"Ed, talk to me," Roy said, following some base instinct as he gently rested his fingers under Edward's chin to draw his attention. Once Ed was looking at him, Roy brought up his free hand to stroke away the tears under his left eye. "What's going on? Are you hurt?"

Drawing himself up, Ed put on his best stony-face and slapped the colonel's hand aside.

"Of course, I'm fine!" He said with so much bravado Roy would almost believe him except that his lip was still wobbling, and he wouldn't meet Roy's eyes. "Why wouldn't I be fine? I'm just . . .tired or something, and seeing you put me in a bad mood. Besides, why do _you_ care? You have _Al_ to pal around with, so it's not like you even notice me unless _Hawkeye_ puts you up to it. And that's another thing! What's with you being so chummy with Al all of a sudden? _I'm_ the Fullmetal Alchemist, so if you're gonna talk alchemy with anyone then it should obviously be _me_. Not _Al_. He's not even a state alchemist! I am! So don't you forget it and start treating Al like he's me just because he's _all_-metal and I'm only _part_-metal! _I'm_ _the Fullmetal Alchemist_!"

Roy stared at the boy, mouth agape, unable to comprehend the magnitude of what just came out of Ed's mouth.

"Ed . . ." Roy said, unable to believe what he was about to ask. "Are you . . . jealous?"

Edward flushed red from the roots of his hair to the neck of his shirt, and he jerked back with a sputter.

"Jealous?" His eyes darted about as if searching for an escape. "Why would I be jealous? What's there to be jealous of?"

"Well, it's not that surprising, really," Roy said, still a bit dazed by the information. "I mean, you and Al have been together for your whole lives. It's not unnatural for you to feel upset at the idea of someone coming between you. But even if Al and I do occasionally spend time together, there's no reason for you to think—"

Ed looked horrified. "You . . . you've been spending time together?" He said, his voice a hoarse whisper. "More . . . more than just today?"

Again, Roy was taken aback. "Maybe one or two other times. He comes to me if he has questions about alchemy and you're not around."

"A-and you talk to him? _Listen_ to him?" Ed was weaving on his feet, and Roy gave a shout of surprise when the boy's knees nearly gave out, grasping Ed's elbows to keep him steady.

"Ed, what—?" But Roy stopped short because Ed was crying again. But these tears weren't the same deep, hacking sobs from before. Instead, they were silent and constant and _what the hell was going on_?!

"You wish it was Al," Ed said, his voice dazed and uneven, and Roy wondered if he even realized he was talking out loud. "If—if I was the one in the armor, if it was Al in my place and me in his . . ." Ed's eyes came up to meet Roy's, and he nearly flinched at the deep, unsettling emptiness there. "Would you like me better? If I was polite and quiet and obeyed orders the first time, would you be happy I'm me and not Al?"

Roy felt like he'd been punched in the gut, and he stared at Ed in awe. The boy was obviously an emotional wreck, and Roy wondered if this was a result of all of the suppressed pain and anger and fear that Ed had been harboring since his mother died seven years ago. Maybe even since his father left when he was four. But whatever the case, Ed was not in his right mind. If he was, he would never be saying these things. Never be implying . . .

"Edward," Roy said, his hands tightening just slightly on Ed's elbows. "Listen to me closely because I will never, _ever_, say this again."

Ed stared at him, wide-eyed and waiting, and Roy had to swallow back the impulse to change his mind and walk away.

"You and Al are both important to me," Roy said, his voice low but clear, and he leaned in just a little closer so Ed couldn't possibly miss what he was saying. "Yes, you're brash and headstrong and more than a little irritating at times . . ." Ed's head dropped, but Roy reached out to lift his chin again. "But I wouldn't change a thing. I'm sorry if it seems like I don't care about you or listen to you. And I know that we can sometimes get a bit . . . carried away with our insults, but that doesn't mean I would wish you away. You don't need to be jealous, Ed. Al won't take your place with me; he already has his own."

A long silence followed Roy's pronouncement as Ed searched him, trying to root out the lie he so clearly believed was there. And then realization dawned on his face, and Ed gaped at him in awe.

"You really mean it . . ."

Roy nodded with a small smile. "I really do."

"So . . . so you really don't mind when I call you a bastard Colonel or tell you that you're a megalomaniac or that you're a skirt-chasing, lazy—"

"Hey, now," Roy said, half-serious and half-amused. "I get the point."

His leg was beginning to fall asleep, so Roy dropped it down so he was now on both knees. "Look, Ed. We have our differences, but I want you to know that when push comes to shove, I'll be here for you. All you have to do is ask."

Ed's lip was trembling again, but he didn't cry. Instead, he lurched forward and threw his arms around Roy's neck so hard that Roy nearly pitched backward.

"Whoa, easy," Roy said, but he returned the hug just as hard. They stayed that way for almost a full minute before Ed abruptly pushed him back and drew his head up high with a wide, teasing grin.

"Gotcha!" He shouted before doubling over with laughter. "You totally thought I was serious, didn't you? 'Oh Colonel, don't replace me, please! I'll be good!' Hah! You should have seen your face!"

For a moment, Roy felt a cold wash of fear and pain so intense that he nearly closed himself off. But then he saw the self-conscious way that Ed was holding himself, the subtle shift of his eyes and the nervous clenching of his bright red sleeve, and Roy relaxed ever-so-slightly. Ed was posturing, clearly unnerved and uncomfortable by the admittedly tender moment the two were sharing, and Roy didn't blame him. He was equally off-balance and more than a little weirded out. But not all in a bad way. Still, it would be cruel to call the boy's bluff, so instead, Roy stood, placed his hands casually in his pockets, and gave Ed that same self-assured smirk that never failed to rile the boy up.

"Please, Fullmetal. You couldn't fool me if you tried."

"Oh, whatever!" Ed rolled his eyes. "You were totally into it!"

A knock on the door cut off Roy's response, and Riza peeked in; her eyebrow drew up in question when her eyes met his.

"Ah, Lieutenant. You're back."

Riza nodded, her eyes shooting to Edward and then back to Roy before her face softened, and she stepped into the room.

"We were able to locate an umbrella, but it would probably be best for the boys to return home before the rain starts anyway. They're calling for lightning, and they shouldn't be out in that."

"Right," Ed said, grinning brightly as he propped his hands behind his head. "Where's Al? He get lost or something?"

A slight smile tugged at Riza's lips. "No. I thought it best if he wait for you in the foyer. And try not to cause a ruckus on your way down, Edward. General Agrievous is here for an inspection."

An almost malicious glee settled on the small alchemist's face, and Roy bit back the urge to groan. He'd kept the Elric boys in the dark about Agrievous on purpose for exactly this reason.

"Oh, don't worry, Lieutenant. Al and I will be on our _best_ behavior." He sprinted from the room without waiting for a response, and this time, Roy did groan.

"Thanks a bunch, Hawkeye. Now I'm going to have some serious groveling to do."

Riza laughed. "I take it the talk went well?"

Roy shrugged and looked away, mildly embarrassed and a bit uncomfortable. "As well as can be expected."

"Very good, sir."

There was a stretch of silence before Riza's head canted. "You do realize, sir, that you're late for your meeting."

Roy stared at her blankly before looking up at the clock. Sure enough, it was almost three-fifteen. He sighed. It would be difficult to explain away his lateness, but somehow, Roy couldn't bring himself to care. It was worth it.

* * *

Original Author's Note: Okay, before the complaints start pouring in, I'm well aware that this is slightly OOC. I just don't care. I found the idea too adorable to pass up and so I wrote it down without any real plot or goal in mind aside from 'mindless fluff' and 'parental-adorableness'. On the other hand, I don't find it too out there either. In this story, Ed's still twelve and has only just passed the State exam so it's not too hard to think of him as a volatile and emotional child still trying to adjust to having his whole life violently jerked out from under him. And whether he realizes it or not, Roy quickly became the pillar that he leaned on because he honestly doesn't have anyone else. He can't lean on Al because Al is leaning on _him_. Ed has to be the strong one, the unbreakable one, and that is a very heavy responsibility for someone Ed's age. Roy is the only one Ed can reliably lean on and the idea that he wouldn't want Ed to lean on him would play heavily on the abandonment issues he has left over from his father. So that's my justification for this fic, even if it's just a thinly-veiled disguise for the excuse to write shameless fluff :D Anyway, don't forget to review!

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New Author's Note: For those of you who have followed my FMA one-shots, this story no doubt looks familiar; that's because I'm shifting all of my connected one-shots to this story so I have them all in one place. For those who may feel gypped by the lack of a new story, I sincerely apologize. Once I have all of my old stories posted here, I'll go back to posting new stories. Still, if you enjoyed seeing this re-mastered (I fixed some typos and inconsistencies) then please drop a review! Fanfiction authors get paid only in affection, after all ^-^


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